


Cartography

by bunnypower236



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Adventure, Alien Biology, Alien Invasion, Aliens, Alternate Universe, Eventual Romance, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash, Science Fiction, Slash, War, ZADE, ZADF, ZaDr, drunk, frienemies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-01-27 17:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnypower236/pseuds/bunnypower236
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU When the Irkens start exporting dangerous goods outside of known Irken space, Zim and his fellow R.E.S.I.S.T.Y. members decide to take a look, hoping to expose something they can use to finally end the Irken Menace. But what lies out in the farthest, uncharted corners of space? And could it really help the rebel cause? ZADR</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Deep in the fringes of the Gamma quadrant of Irken known space was a space ship of modest make and design.

The location of the ship was significant, because the Gamma quadrant was a vast quadrant harboring mainly empty or gaseous planets and few trade centers. It was an area popular amongst pirates, refugees and generally unsavory sorts – and that was within _Vortian_ known space. Due to their exploratory and conquesting nature, the Gamma quadrant of Irkenknown space boasted an additional two hundred light years but was just as barren as it’s Vortian counterpart. In fact, _no one_ explored the far reaches of the Gamma quadrant because it was the general consensus of intelligent life forms everywhere that there was nothing of value past the few trade centers and habitable planets.

This ship had passed all of those things by at least a hundred light years.

Maybe the ship’s location wouldn’t be so peculiar if it was of the make of intergalactic explorers, like the Planet Jackers, which brought up another peculiar thing about this vessel.

It was of Vortian design.

Anyone who knew even the basics of Intergalactic History knew that all Vortian ships had been confiscated and dismembered after the Armada had ‘ _acquired’_ Vort. It was highly illegal to even harbor the parts of Vortian vessels, unless explicit permission had been given. Those who had the permission were easily identifiable from those who didn’t because they were stamped with the Irken symbol and typically used as prison transport vehicles.

Yet again, this particular ship surprised; it had no visible Irken symbol and therefore everyone within it knew they were in possession of a highly illegal vessel. It could only be assumed that the crewmembers were no friend to the Armada.

Some might even call them traitors.

Not that such a name would do anything but delight the ship’s Captain.

In fact, he preferred the term ‘rebel’.

Like all Vortian ships, the main command center of the ship was a large room with ceiling approximately thirty feet high. The high ceiling allowed there to be a stair like structure inside, dividing the bridge into three effective levels. Level one contained important, but non-essential staff to remain on the bridge. A good deal of the space on the lower level was dedicated to communication and science officers; even a few security officers and engineers. The space was wide and open enough that, if needed, as many as twenty active officers could aid the ship in defense, scanning, precision moves and a multitude of other functions that, while important, amounted to the bells and whistles when running the ship.

The next second level contained all essential staff, mainly the navigators, and a huge, ‘U’ shaped control board took up most of the space. Naturally, it was the helm that controlled all navigation and steering.

Finally, the top level contained the Captain himself. This way, the Captain could oversee all his subordinates and make suggestions when necessary without having to walk around the large bridge. It also helped that his chair was connected to a robotic arm that, if his chose, could carry him around virtually all the space within the bridge.

Currently the Captain, a Vortian of average and unremarkable size, was sitting in said chair in a leisurely pose that somehow still conveyed authority. Perhaps it was the way he slouched only just so to the left side of the chair; his left arm propped up under his chin while his right arm draped carelessly off the other armrest. Maybe it was the way his legs, reminiscent of a goat, were crossed at the legs or the way his head was tilted, just so, which somehow accentuated the ivory, semi-flexible horns atop his head.

Regardless of _why_ the relaxed pose conveyed authority, it was hardly an inspired idea that the Captain in question was Vortian, given the nature of his vessel. His large, olive green eyes seemed almost bulbous beneath his goggles and stood in stark contrast against his waxen skin.

No one could claim Lard Nar, Captain of the _Resistance for Exiles Seeking the Intergalactic Salvation of Terrestrial Youth_ (R.E.S.I.S.T.Y for short), was anything less than a formidable commander. He led his people, and the movement they created, the same way a sailor might lead his ship from a storm. While others preoccupied themselves with escaping or fighting the gales and eventually sunk, he placed his fate in to Mother Nature’s capable hands and was inevitably brought to the locus.

It was for this reason the Captain didn’t hesitate when faced the next obstacle hindering his exploration of the Gamma Quadrant.

The ship had come to a small asteroid belt and, while not threatening to the ship, the maneuvers required to navigate the field would require the crew to either take turbulence or reduce speed. Before the helmsman could ask his superior for directions, the Vortian addressed him, “Lt. Spleenk.” He said in a quiet, powerful voice, “Steady as she goes.”

Spleenk nodded confirmation and his four tawny arms went to work at the helm reducing speed and preparing to maneuver the belt. He was Dleekan, and like all males of his species had a lilac circle in the center of his forehead (because crimson was for girls), had little nubs on the top back of his skull similar to bunny ears and sported a breathing apparatus that hung from his lips and connected to a methane tank strapped to his back.

The ship quieted with a tense silence, not because anyone was worried about the dangers of the belt but because it required concentration to maneuver.

At that precise moment, however, a shrill, rather obnoxious cry cut across the ship. “ _WHERE IS HE?!”_ The voice demanded with such ferocity Lt. Spleenk suffered a minor heart palpitation and very nearly hit a small asteroid.

The Captain frowned.

He’d hoped to put off this encounter a little longer.

Whoever it was could be heard storming down the hallway to the lower level of the bridge. Several ensigns assigned to that area had stopped working to glance at each other and the door in infrequent, worried intervals.

Suddenly, the doors to the lower level flew open with such tremendous force it, for a moment, seemed to have spontaneously combusted.

The whole bridge, previously silent, began to resound with it’s booming echo and a figure appeared from the gloom of the hallway.

In the doorway stood an Irken of above average height. His gloved arms were planted furiously on his hips and his large, ruby eyes seemed to glow with pure, undiluted rage. His antennae lay flush atop his head and the depth of their blackness seemed to only bring out the brilliant green of his skin.

At his appearance, absolutely everyone who had been looking at the door spontaneously decided they were overwhelmed with work and practically fused to their stations. No one dared meet the Irken’s sweeping, accusatory gaze.

The Captain, who couldn’t see the intruding Irken from within the door jam, seemed to innately know who had just barged in. “Commander Zim.” He said in that calm, strong voice of his, “Whatever has gotten you so riled up?”

“ _DON’T ACT INNOCENT WITH ME!!!!”_ The Irken practically flew into the room and stared defiantly up the two remaining levels separating them, his eyes ablaze. Within half a second, his PAK legs sprouted from the capsule on his back and he climbed up to the third tier where the Vortian sat.

Lard Nar found himself idly wondering if Zim had purposefully entered the first floor of the bridge, despite surely knowing the Captain would be on the third. Perhaps in order to make an even bigger spectacle of himself? Was he making a point?

Or an entrance?

Zim seemed to have no qualms getting right into his Captain’s face and he marched right up to Lard Nar, leveling him with his best stare.

Despite the uncomfortably close proximity Zim had placed, the Vortian didn’t flinch or hesitate, “Can I help you?” He asked in the supremely polite tone people used when they knew they _could_ help but had yet decided if they actually _would_.

Zim snarled, an angry purple flush rising to his cheeks where his blood pooled. “Explain to me, Lard Nar, _sir_ ,” He spat, “Why _despite my warnings_ , we are approaching the proverbial edge of the Gamma quadrant.”

Lard Nar took half a second to ponder his Commander’s question before he spoke, “While I understand your concerns, I have decided to proceed.”

“Under- _understand my concerns?!_ ” Zim seemed flabbergasted, “Captain, it is not simply my _amazing_ concerns you must understand!” He growled and pulled a star chart out of seemingly nowhere to thrust at the Captain’s face. “Have you even _read_ the report I sent your data pad?!?! Do you understand the _facts_ as well?!” He dropped his voice to a furious whisper so only Lar Nar could hear him. “As per the research _you_ asked for and, for unknown reasons, have _clearly_ forgotten to read, the mighty Zim must point out a severe problem in your little plan.” The map, which Lard Nar had opened for curiosity’s sake, now suffered a series of furious jabs as Zim pointed out several red marks all along the expanse of stars they were currently crossing. He explained, “Armada activity in this area has not only increased but several ships have gone _missing_ within the last week.” He again hit the red marks to further emphasize his point. Apparently they were all where ships had disappeared. “Do you honestly intend to still take us out there?”

Lard Nar sighed, “I absolutely do, Commander.”

“Why is Zim surprised? Of course you wish to test your might while we are hopelessly _understaffed_. Why would you not desire to embark on a suicidal mission into uncharted territory where people, shipments of _highly_ volatile chemicals and Irken military equipment are constantly disappearing!” He hissed, furious.

Lard Nar smiled quietly, “Sarcasm is unbecoming on you Commander.”

Zim threw his head towards the ceiling in an over exaggerated, all consuming eye roll, frustration clearly evident. “Captain, it is obviously crawling with the enemy. _Tallest_ ,” he cursed, “It could even be the _Massive_ out there! The problem is _we don’t know_. We have no knowledge of what is undeniably a very dangerous area out in _uncharted_ space. No one’s coming for us if we get into trouble.”

The Vortian’s small smile suddenly broke in a wide, mischievous way, “Why Commander, I wasn’t aware anyone would come for us _anywhere._ Don’t tell me you’re scared?” Zim visibly bristled.

His PAK made a whirling noise that Lard Nar recognized indicating the Irken was pulling up some file and was about to read those facts, verbatim, to add to his argument.

The Captain didn’t need to hear the statistics again; he already knew what Zim would say.

No less than thirty ships disappeared from the fringes of the Gamma quadrant this past year alone. At least a dozen freighters of machinery, weapons, and other unknown supplies would leave Vort every six months and disappear in this region, almost as if it had purposefully shipped here. Finally, and this piece of information the Irken didn’t know because Lard Nar had hire an informant to do some digging, once in a blue moon a single ship would leave from the area. His informant had actually managed to get him a small piece of that shipment.

In the vastness of the Gamma quadrant, this type of activity might seem innocuous at first glance but the Vortian and his Irken Commander had spent the last few years piecing together a pattern.

The trail ended here, at the very end of known explored space, and the only way to learn more would be to follow the trail.

There was nothing more to be learnt on this side of the invisible divider.

They _had_ to cross.

“Hush.” Lard Nar silenced Zim with a quick wave of his hand. He then interlaced his fingers, resting just enough of his head on the appendages to obscure his mouth. It was a contemplative gesture and one considered polite on Vort when speaking your mind. “You know I value your input, Zim.” The Vortian began; Zim gave a curt nod, for he knew he had very valuable things to say. “ _However,_ this time I believe I will defer to my own judgment.”

Had this conversation come five years ago, when they had first met, Zim might have raged at the Vortian’s impudence, arrogance or pigheaded-ness. Having known the Captain for years however, Zim was less offended and more expecting it.

Lard Nar was a very tactical person who, on rare occasions, could even school the mighty Zim with his plans. So the Irken decided he would only listen politely, as is Vortian custom, to his Captain before he decided whether or not the proposed plan would merit his corrections.

“Sir.” Zim said, schooling his form into parade rest; he knew the Vortian would wish to discuss this further in private. It wouldn’t help crew morale if they heard any more bickering. A decision needed to be made.

“Lt. Spleenk, you have the conn.” Lard Nar announced. The tawny Dleekan spun around a little too quickly in his swivel chair and continued to rotate in circles as he gave a thumbs up in acknowledgement.

Satisfied, yet vaguely annoyed by the display, Lard Nar rose fluidly from his Captain’s chair, his hoofed feet making a little ‘ _click’_ as he made contact with the ground. Zim did not need permission to know to follow him off the bridge and into a small hallway that lead to both the turbo lift and the Ready Room.

The Ready Room, situated to the left of the corridor, was a place the Captain took his top officials to discuss courses of action, particularly during combat, when one of the other conference rooms aboard the ship would be too far to feasibly use in time. Plain and simple, it was a soundproof conference room, exclusive to the Captain and his higher officers. Lard Nar had a habit of using it as a makeshift office, where he would evaluate crewmen who needed it and prepare propaganda, paperwork or other things to aid in the war effort. This way, he was always a convenient half-minute walk and ten second sprint away from taking command of his vessel if an emergency ever forced him back to the bridge.

When they entered the room, as usual, all but two seats had been retracted into the wall. The seats sat on either end of the huge conference table that was, predictably, covered in the Vortian’s plans. A large map covered most of the table, and several data chips lie stacked in a neat little pile to the right. Zim recognized the map as the far corner of the Gamma quadrant – a place he was determined to persuade his Captain to abandon. He would have to wait and see if he would be victorious.

“Commander.” Lard Nar fixed his bright golden eyes on his Irken counterpart and gestured to one of the chairs. It was the smaller of the two and resembled the type of chairs that might be seen in a business tycoon’s office while he was conducting interviews.

Zim inclined his head a respectful degree. He knew that, because of the use of his title instead of his name, Lard Nar planned this conversation to be a professional one. Maybe he wished to avoid another open conversation like the one on bridge minutes earlier.

Zim forced himself to unclench his fists, recognizing the gesture for what it was. It was a challenge. Zim would be unable to full second guess his Captain unless it officially became and informal conversation. Otherwise, the Irken would appear mutinous and would be forced to follow Lard Nar’s plan purely to prove he was not.

Either way, the conversation would play into the Captain’s hands.

Apparently the Vortian knew the Irken would not take kindly to whatever his news was – Zim tried to suppress an irritated sound as he plopped; _professionally_ , yet distinctly annoyed, into his seat.

All he had to do was get Lard Nar to say his name, _without_ his title, and this conversation would become informal. That shouldn’t be too hard.

“ _Captain_.” Zim practically purred and gestured to the other, larger chair. He tried not to sound overtly sarcastic.

Lard Nar rolled his eyes and took his seat. “I formally request that this meeting be informal in nature.” The Irken declared causing his Vortian counterpart to exhale a rather large gulp of air that seemed suspiciously like a sigh.

“Request denied, _Commander._ ” The Vortian replied, “Will you at least listen to my reasoning _before_ you try and tell me how stupid you think it is?”

“Seeing as this is a formal meeting, _Captain_ ,” The Irken hissed out the title in a vaguely insubordinate way, trying to annoy him into saying his name. Lard Nar liked to de-title people when they annoyed him. “Zim will not be able to express his amazing opinions unless you ask for them.”

“Small favors.” Lard Nar muttered, quelling the urge to yet again roll his eyes.

Zim decided it best to pretend he didn’t hear him. Instead he turned his attention to the map, about to ask a question about the post-it note containing a circle that read ‘ _planet?’_ stuck to the far corner of the map. Before he could ask, however, something white inside a plastic bag piled amongst the data chips caught his eye. There was something about it that made Zim’s greedy Irken instincts want to claim it.

“What’s that?” He asked, curious.

“Hmm. I thought it might be the real stuff.” Lard Nar mused, watching the way Zim’s antennae twitched in anticipation.

“What’s real, my Captain?” Zim asked, genuinely curious and no longer sarcastic.

“Sugar.” The Vortian took the bag, emptied it upon the table and interlocked his fingers, carefully watching Zim from beneath his goggles.

Zim barely heard him. As soon as the bag opened, the Irken was assaulted with a sweet aroma so tantalizing he had to literally grab hold of his chair’s armrests to prevent himself from jumping on the little mound of white powder. His claws dug deeply into the fabric of the chair and he tried not to inhale the delicious scent too deeply when he asked, “Why-? _No_.” He amended, “ _How_ exactly did you get your hands on pure _…_ refined _… natural…_ ” The Irken shook his head, the mere description of the sugar making his body itch with want. He had to pause and take a soft gasp of breath through his mouth so his antenna could not pick up even _more_ of the treacherous scent. Luckily, Zim didn’t need to finish painstakingly arranging a question because Lard Nar, who seemed amused by his Commander’s struggle to remain in control, chuckled and said, “It’s fine Commander. You can have it.”

He knew full well trying to talk to an Irken with _sugar_ in front of it was a cruel and useless move – Zim wouldn’t be listening to a word he said.

Zim tried not to look too pathetic when he asked, “Are you certain, my Captain?”

Lard Nar chuckled again at the Irken’s rather desperate expression, “Yeah it’s fine. I just wanted someone to make sure it’s the real stuff and since you’re our resident expert…” He trailed off, watching the way Zim’s antenna danced atop his head, taking in the sugar’s scent. “You can really tell that it’s natural refined sugar by smell alone?”

“Captain.” Zim said, a little too seriously, sitting straight in his seat. “Since the extinction of our _own_ natural sugar eons ago, it has become every Irken’s _dream_ to taste the sweet, sweet natural phenomena at least _once_ in their life time. Of _course_ I can tell the difference by smell alone!!!”

“Ok, ok I get it. I won’t torture you any more, I said you can have it.” Lard Nar said with a wave of his hand; dismissive, as if he had _not_ just given Zim the second greatest gift he could ever bestow on an Irken (The first being a chance at conquest).

Zim tried not to sound _too_ grateful as he thanked him, _repeatedly,_ and practically began inhaling it.

Lard Nar stood from his seat and paced. “I had _hoped_ that it wasn’t _real_ sugar when I first saw it. One of our contacts intercepted this from an Irken trade vessel coming out of the Gamma quadrant. To be precise, from here.” Lard Nar jumped back into his seat and pointed triumphantly at a section on the map. It was about two inches from where the post-it note was taped to the map.

“Let me guess.” Zim replied, licking his fingers rather shamelessly, “You think it’s coming from the sticky note.”

_“Not the note- it-”_

“Zim was joking.” The Irken interrupted with a roll of his eyes. Geez, you have a vaguely psychotic episode _one time_ and they never let you live it down. “You actually believe there to be a planet on the fringe of Gamma space and you believe that is where the sugar came from.” He stated, watching his commanding officer with curious eyes.

“Yes.” Lard Nar said, sitting fully in his seat, excitement turning to something more serious. “I have reason to believe there to be a great deal more of it under Irken control. I shouldn’t have to explain to _you_ of all people why this is a problem.”

“Problem? You mean _besides_ the fact I could gladly sustain myself on this tiny ounce of sugar you gave me for _at least_ week? How could that ever be a problem?” Zim asked innocently, clearly enjoying the way his Captain twitched with irritation.

“Zim be serious.” Lard Nar replied testily. “You _know_ that if the Armada gets their grubby claws on this type of resource we can kiss the rest of the free galaxy goodbye.”

Zim’s antennae had perked up at the mention of his name. He purposefully ignored the Vortian’s comment and instead asked, “Is your use of my name a deferment to an informal discussion, Captain?”

Lard Nar paused, realized his rare slip up and grit his teeth. He knew Zim, by Vortian diplomatic laws, now had a perfectly proper reason not to participate in the _formal_ conversation because Lard Nar had just accidentally named him. And Zim knew it too.

“Fine.” He ground out, clearly annoyed, “Informal discussion granted.”

“Good.” Zim smiled rather serenely and licked the last of the sugar off his fingers. Then, with great flourish, he jumped to his feet with an insane shout. He jabbed a claw accusingly at his Captain. “Have you lost your filthy Vortian _mind_?!?” Lard Nar sighed and slumped in his chair, resigning himself to the terrible rant he was trying to avoid. “You just found out that, _on top_ of the strange disappearances, highly volatile military grade chemicals _and_ advanced weaponry emanating from that section of space, that _sugar, PURE sugar_ is also coming _out._ And your plan is to go _in there_!?!?!?” He pounded a claw onto the table with an ominous thud, “How can I get it into your empty, fluff filled head-cavity that this is _completely_ insane, even by the amazing standards of _me,_ Zim! We are understaffed, un-supported and unprotected. Our lasers and warp drive are offline. You bring us into that section of space, Lard Nar and it’s as good as suicide.”

“Acknowledged Zim. I never said it was the _smartest_ plan, but it’s the necessary one.” The Vortian countered with a grim determination about him.

“ _HOW?!”_ Zim pounded at the conference table with his fist, “ _How_ could this _possibly_ be a _necessary_ move??” He demanded, “Captain, it is pertinent that we gain more recruits and improve public support _before_ making a move that could possibly lead to war!!”

“And here I thought you’d jump at the chance to find where this sugar is coming from.” Lard Nar joked.

Zim was livid. “ _Not at the risk of our entire crew!”_

“Zim.” Lard Nar said his name in the quiet, powerful way he spoke when issuing commands, humor evaporated. “I am not saying we’re going to attack whatever we find. This will be a covert mission for informational purposes only. You know no one in known Irken space would _dare_ help us unless we had compelling proof that things can and _will_ get a lot worse than they already are if we do not act. This is how we can convince them. If we want our approval and our recruitment to go up, we have to take this risk. It’s the only _possible_ way for us to achieve the informational assets we need to turn public opinion on the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y’s side. If we don’t do this, we stay a small time resistance that will ultimately pitter out without achieving _anything_ and the Irken will remain in power and unchallenged.”

“And if we _do_ take this risk,” Zim mumbled moodily, “We become a band of idiotic _smeets_ who tried to take on the Armada without a plan and _died_ a futile death.”

“Zim. I’ve made my decision.” Lard Nar spoke firmly, he laid his hands on the table and leaned towards Zim, daring him to dispute the facts. “For the good of the resistance, we _must_ find out what is going on out there.” When Zim showed no inclination to resist, he took a deep breath and again settled into his contemplative pose. “Now, I could really use my Commander behind me, especially since you’re the only one on this ship with the necessary subterfuge to survive this type of mission.”

Zim studied the Vortian, saw the way his olive green eyes sparkled with a grim determination, and sighed. “I may not always agree with you, my Captain, but Zim is always at your disposal.” He saluted in the way of his people; an Irken military habit five years working under Lard Nar had yet to erase. It didn’t matter; the Vortian had come to associate the gesture with complete devotion and determination on Zim’s part.

He would not fail.

*****

A/N I wanted to make this chapter a little longer, but decided to take more time for the next one so I don't leave ya'll with too many cliffies! :P

Anyway, I'm doing this to practice writing styles - it'll take about 30+ chapters, maybe more to finish. Constructive criticism would be appreciated and I'd love to try having a beta if anyone's interested - preferably someone who can whip me into shape and make me write! lol


	2. Chapter 2

Zim and Lard Nard spent the next two weeks getting everything up to speed. While the Captain led a team of engineers on the efforts to fix the ships warp core, which was currently working at half it's full speed, Zim was organizing a small two man team to accompany him on his covert mission planet side. Due to the nature of the information they might come across, that meant Zim could only pick from clearance personnel. With the low amount of available staff they had on hand, due to the unachievable recruitment quota, there weren't very many people to choose from.

Not many acceptable people anyway – and Zim used that term loosely.

Zim was in the training simulator, effective on medium, as he watched Lt. Spleenk try and fail to preform a basic evasive maneuver. He was never very athletic.

Unfortunately, Zim couldn't pick from most of the clearanced athletic crew because several of them were taller than he. Normally, height was not a big deal – especially on a Vortian run ship, as he'd come to begrudgingly learn, but when planning on infiltrating a hidden Irken Outpost it became crucial. Zim's height was already pushing it for Irken Status; at five feet seven inches no one would believe he was just a lowly foot solider any more. He would be unable to sneak past other Irkens unseen with a flimsy excuse like he used to – one of the few reasons Zim ever found himself missing his Smaller status.

Had he still been tiny, he probably could have accomplished this infiltration on his own. As it was, his height would attract enough attention that, if spotted, it would be strange and dangerous for him not to have a few 'underlings' to protect him.

It made sense for a Taller to be running around a secret base with two Smaller underlings to kick around. It showed that he was powerful – official. No one would look twice at him or his team; they'd create a camouflage just by walking around together.

Zim was certain he could talk his way out of almost any situation he encountered but only if his crew was shorter than him.

It didn't matter if they all wore holographic disguise watches or not, if a Taller Irken was running around with a group taller than he it would draw all the wrong questions from all the wrong people. Worse, he had to keep his group down to only two – Taller Irkens weren't allowed more than two 'assistants' in their work, least they get too cocky.

Essentially, Zim had the very difficult job of picking two suitable officers from an already limited crew who had proper clearance to see the possible secrets they might uncover and who had a low enough height not to give them away.

If only the Captain could come, everything would be so much simpler; he was one of the only competent crewmembers who fell under the typical Irken height range of four feet eleven inches to five feet five inches.

Zim sighed. It of course would be impossible for Lard Nar to assist him, it was already risky enough to the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y that they were risking him, their second in command, on this operation. And so Zim had a very short list of very undesirable candidates to look through before they reached whatever planet or station or whatever was out in uncharted Gamma space.

Zim sighed watching Spleenk fail yet another simple evasive maneuver – he was definitely that last person on Zim's list to come with him. The Dleekan was pretty much useless. He was however, an incredibly competent flyer, better than Zim would be in any aerial chases they might have to avoid, and so even with his almost too tall height of five feet five inches, Spleenk was actually, unfortunately, one of the best candidates for the job.

Just as Zim was mulling over the finer points of how the Dleekan might be competent, he suddenly tripped over his own two feet and accidentally shot a phaser beam into the wall.

Right.

Above.

Zim's.

Head.

The Irken tried to resist the urge to throw his face into his open palms and cry.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Commander's quarters weren't anything unusual of a Vortian starship. Like most, the whole thing was a large rectangle, which was dived in half with a large wall that covered 3/4th the distance of the room, leaving a door-like opening to connect the two spaces. The wall separated the office/living room space and the bedroom space so the Commander could maintain the privacy of his sleeping area when he needed to invite a crewmember into his quarters to give them an evaluation or reprimand in the office area. It was sparsely furnished, with a big desk and two chairs – one on either side of the desk, and a plain couch in the office/living area. Behind that space in the sleeping area was a large bed, an Irken recharge station Zim had hooked up and a built in closet along the far wall. There was even a door to the left of the area that lead to a private bathroom Zim shared with the Captain, whose quarters were connected to it on the other side. Lard Nar had more or less the same set up, with about ten extra cubic feet in his office so his office/ living space could hold and extra couch and a private replicator/mini bar so he could privately entertain high-ranking officials who might visit his ship – such as diplomats.

It was a set up, which would never have worked on an Irken ship, where the second in commander had almost all of the same benefits the Captain did. It was a sacrilegious, almost mutinous concept to an Irken, whose leaders were almost akin to living gods.

Zim loved it.

It constantly reminded him he was as far away from Irk and her Armada as possible.

Currently, Zim sat in his office with a small electronic notepad of Irken make, the kind that was retractable and easily digitized into PAK information, and held a stylus at his lip. He was currently deep in thought over whom to bring with him and was sorting out their pros and cons on a weighted scale to see if anyone would be a clear victor he could bring.

They all failed.

It basically came down to intelligence vs. competence.

Lard Nar and Zim had been so busy with maintaining other parts of the resistance; they kind of let training slack. Basically, the entire ship was divided down the middle between nerds ad jocks, with only a handful branching the gap. Unfortunately, with the exception of Lard Nar, everyone who bridged the gap was taller than Zim.

It was disgraceful.

Had this been an Irken ship, everybody would be a combat specialist and the top of their chosen intellectual field. There would be no discrepancy between their competency in one subject or the other, they would be essentially equal – brain and brawn.

The R.E.S.I.S.T.Y was more brain than anything – it took a really intelligent being to look at all the facts and decide to start a revolution.

Or stupid.

That was where the few brawny members came in.

Had Zim been using paper, he might have scrunched it up and angrily thrown it in the trash or perhaps shredded it. Instead, he just used his stylus to angrily swipe at his PADD. He didn't even bother to look up from his maniacal swiping tirade when his door chimed. He grunted an angry acceptance, still glued to his work and growled, "We need to get on fucking top of training these recruits."

Lard Nar, who had literally only taken one step into the room when Zim spoke, crossed his arms in a bemused fashion and sauntered the rest of the way into the room. A smile upon his lips, he waited until the door whooshed shut behind him before saying, "Noted, dear Commander."

Zim slammed down his stylus in a way that would make anyone flinch, stood up and shot the Vortian his best glare. Infuriatingly, the Captain's smile seemed to only grow by the teeth at his action's, wider still when Zim said, "I'm glad to see an ill prepared crew amuses you."

"We actually are battle ready. Our mishmash works just fine on a ship." Lard Nar shrugged nonchalantly, still smirking.

"Yes well, I'm not going to be on a ship am I?!" Zim scoffed, swiping his hand across the PADD angrily. "Just look at these profiles! Not one well rounded recruit I can trust! I either have to muscle my way out or think myself out!"

"You know, we also do have plenty of well-rounded recruits too." Lard Nar laughed softly, clearly enjoying Zim's plight. "Why not use one of them?"

Zim's eyes flashed, clearly noticing the bait and angrily accepting it, "Because they're all TALLER than me!" He bellowed, smashing his hand on his desk to punctuate his outcry. "Are you happy now?!"

"Actually, I'm a perpetually unhappy person." The Captain replied, suddenly very serious. His stoic expression only ruined by the way the corner of his lip hooked up in to an ill-disguised smirk.

"Get out." Zim growled, plopping back down into his chair making an irritated clicking and popping sound.

"Such language Commander!" Lard Nar replied with mock distress and grabbed a chair, uninvited, so he could sit in front of Zim. "You forget I can speak Irken too. What would your mother say?"

"You know Irkens don't have mothers." Zim scoffed, incredulous. "And if we did then those robotic arms would do a terrible job of it."

"Or maybe they'd do a fine job if their kids didn't stuff other kids back up the tubing." Lard Nar mused, resting his elbow on Zim's desk.

Zim's antenna flattened against his head. He carefully shifted his PADD away from his Captain's elbow, which was quickly taking up most of the table, as if the thing couldn't be trusted near his data. "And maybe they'd do an even better job if their planet's well being didn't hinge on whether or not kids stuffed other kids in tubing."

"Yes well. You can talk to the engineers about that one." Lard Nar replied, looking less and less like their fearsome leader and more like a bothersome child as he stretched his arms across Zim's desk, nearly engulfing the whole thing. Zim discretely put his PADD into his lap.

"Zim did." He replied primly. Then the Irken paused, red eyes bright, his nasal ridge crinkling. "I wasn't aware you had time to socialize Captain." He said quietly, as if he just realized the pleasant chatter they'd been enjoying was no longer professional. In fact had barely masqueraded as that to begin with.

"Ah." Lard Nar said, "You caught me." He sighed and flicked one of his horns with a long, pale finger. It wobbled slightly. "Indulge me a little, won't you Commander. I've been in that darn warp core all day."

"Well, if we had better recruits or better trained staff, you wouldn't need to be." Zim replied.

Lard Nar gave a dramatic sigh, "Alas, not even my own Commander will take pity on me!"

"Yeah, yeah." Zim rolled his eyes skyward and turned his attention to the PADD in his lap, ignoring the Captain in favor of swiping through its digital contents. "Some of us still have real work to do, you know. Forced upon us by ignorant, headstrong-"

"Careful Commander," Lard Nar cut him off with a smile, drawing neatly folded hands beneath his chin. "I might misinterpret that as an compliment."

"Then your hearing is faulty too." Zim scoffed, getting to his feet and staring at his device. He didn't have time for such nonsense now; if the mission were to succeed he needed to spend every minute on these reports. There had to be some way to form an acceptable, no, admirable crew.

There just had to be some way!

"Here, let me see." Lard Nar's hand quickly snaked out and plucked the PADD out of Zim's hand before he had time to react more than an annoyed, 'Hey!' in protest. The Vortian pursed his lips and, after a second's thought, his fingers began to nimbly dance across the screen. Zim wasn't exactly certain what he was supposed to do in the meantime so, reluctantly, he sank back into his chair and propped his head upon his arms.

"They're pretty much useless." The Irken sighed, watching his Captain work. "There's not much in the way of viable-"

"Done!" Lard Nar proclaimed proudly, handing the PADD back.

Zim blinked and stared at the device dumbly. He cautiously took it when Lard Nar shook his hand impatiently; emphasizing that holding it out to him was starting to get tiring. His antenna flattened against his skull in bewilderment. "How-" Zim started weakly but cut himself off, quickly swiping across the screen.

His Captain could not be serious.

Zim suspiciously looked at Lard Nar's face to see if he was joking. It was apparent by his smug expression that he was not. Zim frowned. "Captain." He began, pained by the stupidity of the choices and extremely confused, "You did look at the recruits you chose?"

Lard Nar just smiled that mysterious way he usually did whenever he knew something Zim didn't and said, "Just thought I'd help you out Commander." He paused, "Of course, you don't have to take my advice." And with that, even though it was only 300 degrees standard ship time, he bid his second in command good night, got up and left.

"Night to you too." The Irken muttered under his breath, watching him go with an annoyed expression creasing his nasal and brow ridges.

Zim didn't bother stopping him, he'd gotten used to his Captain's whimsy long ago.

Instead he merely looked down at the roster and sighed.

Great.

That was how, less than two weeks later, Zim found himself in a small, three man version of a Vortian Voot called a 'Diver' with two of the most hopeless members of the Resisty (according to Zim) and Lard Nar's most 'trusted' crewmates.

Lt. Shloonktapooxis and Lt. Spleenk.

Zim had spent the majority of the remaining weeks drilling the two on basic combat maneuvers in hopes of somehow evening them out. It hadn't really helped.

Spleenk, with all his extra fumbly limbs, was all left feet on the battlefield, and Shloonktapooxis was a weapon specialist who was literally a floating cone. He was better at telling people about weapons than operating them and maybe that was find on the ship, but Zim failed to see how two officers who couldn't even properly calibrate their own phasers would be of much use planetside.

It wasn't like the Irken hadn't had some small inkling this might happen; the Captain had been trying to prove their worth to Zim for years. But between the dangerous stealth mission and the dire need for information, Zim had at least hoped the Captain would want this little endeavor to actually work.

Obviously he just wished to take amusement in their deaths.

Because now this was, without a reasonable doubt, suicide – at least according to Zim anyway.

And when had he ever been wrong?

"Commander, we are ready for launch, on your order." Lt. Spleenk said, shaking Zim from his thoughts. He swiveled about in his chair and saluted a little too enthusiastically. Zim sighed.

Both Shloonktapooxis and Spleenk had insisted on practicing their 'Irken Mannerisms' since they learned they would be accompanying him. As Zim was the only Irken on the ship and neither one had been in close contact with actual Irkens this inevitably lead to them trying to 'Zim-ify' everything they did. It only served to fuel Zim's displeasure with both of them and lead to some very annoying, over-enthused gestures that Zim found downright insulting. Like the salutes. He didn't bother correcting them, though.

The worst part was they actually were acting like Irken underlings.

Not that he would ever tell them that.

Zim glared, already annoyed. This mission was off to a good start, "Just." Zim rolled his eyes, there wasn't anything getting mad could do, and so he let his command out as a huge sigh, "Call the Captain and tell his we're ready."

"Aye, aye, Commander!" If Spleenk kept up that dumb salute, Zim doubted he could keep placating himself with the false 'getting mad doesn't help' and counting to ten that Lard Nar taught him. Before the Irken could so much as growl, Irene, the current Lieutenant at the helm, popped up in the right hand corner of their View screen.

"The Captain has heard you and the cargo bay is clear. Preparing your vessel." She said primly, eyes bright beneath a hood that shadowed her entire face.

Zim leaned back in his chair and watched through the view screen as the sealed doors of the cargo bay began to open. Normally, they would be sitting in one of the many launch wings situated along the side of the ship where the shuttles were kept but Zim, being rather superstitious, had refused and insisted on the Diver. There was no way he was taking a ship that doubled as and emergency escape vessel out on a probably hopeless mission. That was just bad juju.

When the cargo bay doors were fully opened, Lt. Irene said, "Waiting on your signal. You may launch at the ready." Zim expected her to end the call then, as the formalities were over, but Irene's eyes crinkled slightly and although he couldn't see her face he knew she was smiling. "Oh and Commander," She said, eyes laughing, "The Captain wanted me to tell you, 'Have fun'."

Zim growled, "You can assure him, I won't." And with that he punched control on the arm of his chair to end the call, fuming. The fact that Lard Nar seemed to think his position was hilarious did not help his mood. He fumed for a few seconds longer until he caught the eyes of Spleenk and Shloonktapooxis, whom seemed unsure what to do. "Yes, yes. You may begin to disembark." He snapped with a wave of his hand.

"You got it!" Shloonktapooxis exclaimed, using the psudo-antenna atop his cone to give a mock salute. Zim rolled his eyes with a sigh.

This was going to be a loooong mission.

He slumped down into his seat, watching the image of the cargo bay quickly melt into the open space. They swung out around some ringed gas giant only two planets from their destination. They easily sailed through the asteroid belt after passing the first one, a gas giant, and continued past a small reddish rock one. Finally, after several degrees, their destination, a little green and blue planet, came into view illuminating the screen.

It wasn't anything special, a class M planet roughly one-tenth the size of Irk and one-eighteenth the size of Vort. It was a typical rock planet covered in water that housed approximately seven average sized continents containing everything from deserts to lush forests.

Zim's claws tightened upon their armrests; somewhere down on that seemingly innocuous little world lay an Irken outpost of unknown potential. It had to be dangerous, the evidence clearly supported that, but they were going to find out exactly how dangerous. And if it was too risky to leave it alone, they would salvage what information they could and sabotage the place.

At any costs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the end's a little sudden but hope ya'll liked - I was going to write more but figured I'd kept you all waiting long enough. After starting my new job and summer sessions at the college I've had A LOT of work and not a lot of time, so it's been hard to write. :/ Sorry for the delay, will try to get the next chapter out two weeks from now but we'll see! Thanks for the continued support and please review if you have constructive criticism or, ya know, just enjoyed it.


	3. Chapter 3

The prison wasn't a very unusual sight on an Irken conquered world. It was used to house prisoners, but also the citizens left on the planet that were free – if they could still be called that. Half the population of the prison woke at dawn every morning, piled into various shuttles or transport chambers and were sent across the planet to various sugar fields where they would toil all day under the hot sun with little breaks or water. They were called the Workers and they would continue to work until their bodies gave out or they were transferred to a different class, which typically was to the Experiment class.

The other half, the Experiments, was made of elderly, young or defective natives; those who could no longer work the sugar fields or were too weak for manual labor to begin with. They were test subjects used as targets and guinea pigs for dangerous Irken military experiments and weapons.

A small handful of those, the ones who were more pleasing to look at, smelled less and had gentler, more subservient mannerisms were assigned as slaves in various facilities, where they would clean, cook and do general busywork the Irkens themselves were above. These were the Servants.

Finally, there was a tiny handful of what were called Outsiders. These were natives that somehow not only survived the initial sweeper cannon, but the military forces that cleansed the planet on conquest and, until capture, had never worked under the iron boots of the Irkens. These were crafty creatures that had lived in the wilds of their planet for almost as long as the Irkens had owned it. They were incredibly difficult to catch and the few that had been caught resided on the far side of the prison in maximum-security cells where they sat in complete darkness until they were fit for work or completely insane. The Irkens would use all kinds of methods to get these prisoners to submit, beatings and starvation were among the most common but there were several even crueler guards who used more questionable methods. The only way for a prisoner left in these horrific conditions to be freed was to either rat out the remaining Outsiders they knew of, where they would be rewarded with the cushy Server status, or pledge themselves to the Armada, where they would become a Worker. If insanity were to come before the prisoner ratted the others out or pledged itself to the Armada, then it was simply disposed of.

No use keeping a broken toy.

With one, single exception.

There was one prisoner incarcerated within the facility that was considered both dangerous and insane – yet he was still alive.

It was because the Armada was desperate for him to rat out his colleges, not that they would ever claim desperation, but his multiple raids on Sugar Mines, sometimes freeing humans or killing Irkens, made him a dangerous priority. He was supposedly the ringleader but none of the other natives knew him, so the Irkens assumed he was a figurehead who knew where the real threat was hiding. That was the only reason the abomination still lived.

They needed to quash this rebellion before it got any bigger; it was starting to give some of the inmates hope.

And that's why the events that transpired that evening were so important.

It was a little past three am when it happened.

Inside a maximum security cell sat a small figure, unmistakably an Outsider, wrapped in a white coat, similar to a straight jacket. It wasn't the first time the prisoner had worn such a thing, even if it was a more advanced version, and he couldn't help but feel it wouldn't be the last. He felt a small amount of humor as he began wiggling his arms about the coat and couldn't help but chuckle to himself. There was a small sense of irony in the fact that it would be how used to being bound that would aid in his escape from aliens of all things. Even he might not have believed himself a few years back.

With a small jerk of the wrist and another arch of his back the prisoner suddenly found the jacket limp on his body, loose enough to remove. He smiled quietly to himself and enjoyed the sensation of the looser clothes for a second before moving on to faze two.

He took a deep breath of air, expanding his lungs a far as possible, and screamed. It was a hideous, inhumane noise, like that of a dying animal and he knew they'd come at the sound of it. He was important after all.

After only three days of imprisonment his stupid captors had yet to figure out he would never tell them what he knew, so until that fact became apparent they couldn't risk him dying. They had a rebellion to quash after all.

The prisoner began to count the seconds as they passed after his scream, if he was right about how the guards were spaced, the first one should be a ten second sprint from him, with another guard a mere thirty seconds behind. That mean he had half a minute tops.

He took a deep breath to steady himself, just as a guard burst in, screaming in Irken.

"What the hell is going on in here!?" The guard, who couldn't see the state of the straight jacket in the pitch black, stormed into the room, forgetting to close the door behind him. Or maybe, he incorrectly assumed that just because he saw the jacket draped across the prisoner's body, that he was helpless.

It became very apparent that he indeed thought there was no danger when his footsteps stopped directly behind the inmate.

Too bad for him.

A vicious smile ripped up the side of the prisoner's face as he leapt up from his sitting position. In the split second it took for him to stand and pivot to face the guard, he had already ripped off his straight jacket and flung it over the guard, blinding him. He swiftly delivered a roundhouse kick to the back, hitting him in the tender spot directly below the PAK and flinging the hapless guard deeper into the cell, face first.

It wasn't worth the time it would take to kill the guard; he'd already lost a good ten seconds.

Before his victim could recover, the prisoner dashed out of his cell, taking only a second to lock the door.

"Four, two, three, seven, five!" He sung in a triumphant, insane way as he punched in the code to seal the door. The door chirped the harmony back as each number was pushed. Maybe next time, these scum will invest in silent locks, He thought smugly to himself as the door swung closed just as the guard, who had regained his bearings, charged at the door.

Too slow!

Oh how he screamed.

"Now," The prisoner muttered to himself, ignoring the banshee wails of the imprisoned guard, "If I can get out of sight within the remaining fifteen seconds, the second guard should waste another thirty seconds to a minute freeing Skippy here." He nodded quickly, scanning the terrain as he tried to work through the next portion of his plan. His eyes roamed across the deserted halls, trying to ignore the sounds of frantic footfall when –there!

He sprinted across the hall to where a Servant's janitorial equipment lay, most importantly, where a large garbage bin was. Then he rolled it as close as he dared to his cell. He squeezed himself in between the garbage bin and the wall rather than jumping into it, he wasn't stupid, and waited. His heart hammered in his throat and he took several long breaths through the nose, attempting to calm himself when he heard more shouting from his cell. The other guard had arrived.

The other guard, seemingly a female Irken if her curled antenna was any indicator, yelled furiously at the cell, "Stand back!" Obviously, she still seemed to think the prisoner was in there and with no evidence to the contrary, she prepared her electric spear so she could stab whatever was shouting bloody murder. Thank god the first guard was an idiot, he was screaming curses instead of conveying the situation to his hapless comrade. They would both probably be punished later.

A soft little tune cut through the shouts, 'four, two, three, seven, five'! signifying the code had been punched into the door lock. As soon as the door began to slide open the prisoner took the opportunity to scream as loud as he could, startling the guard standing in front of the opening door so bad she dropped her spear. Before she could recover or the other guard could run out, he slammed the garbage bin into the second guard, successfully slamming her into the first guard.

They both went flying into the cell with a myriad of curses.

A quick sweeping motion allowed the prisoner to grab the electro-spear the female had dropped, now he was armed, and then he punched in the door sealing code, hollering, "Four, two, three, seven, five!" in badly accent Irken so they knew that he knew. Maybe the taunt wouldn't be helping anyone else escape when they replaced the locks with silent ones, but he couldn't help goading them, enjoying their curses and screams. Besides, its not like silent locks would affect him.

He had no intention of being captured ever again.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Zim was having a pretty bad day.

His mood already started off sour because he hated wearing the Armada's uniforms, even if pink was his color and even the fact that they were only a holographic illusion could not placate him.

But that was not why his day was majorly sucking, no it was terrible because, from the second they entered the Earth's atmosphere, this mission was doomed to have everything go wrong.

First off, after scanning the planet and finding the base of operations, the Diver was on it's merry way to a place where it could land when Spleenk jerked the steering and flew heavily off course. In the Dleekan's defense an unscheduled patrol had flown so close that, had he not swerved off course their mission would have ended before they got there. Zim was actually a little bit pleased with Spleenk for his evasive actions. He was not, however, pleased when the resulting evasion left to a near crash land almost a mile off their mark.

After securing the ship that an an extra mile of hiking through a scorching desert, because that's where the base just had to be, and a rather intense questioning upon reaching the base. Luckily, Zim was used to these types of questions and used his knowledge and height to dissuade the guards from asking too many questions about himself and his holographically disguised peers but that lead to getting information about the second big problem.

Apparently, they had arrived right on the base during a prison break.

A high class Outsider, whatever that was, Zim chose not to ask, had broken free from maximum security only 30 degrees before their arrival. This meant the teams plan about waltzing in and keeping their heads low was now moot and possibly dangerous. Everybody would need to show IDs and credentials to get in and out and there would be a lock down on the base. Yet again, Zim had managed to weasel out of protocol by cutting off the poor guard before they could ask for ID with a, "You sniveling INCOMPETENT morons! I come out here all the way from the Massive to check our standing and you have let a prisoner escape?! What would the Tallest think of this!? The Galaxy's finest bested by a revolting little native!?"

This made the guards balk and shrink back enough for Zim to roughly push them out of the way, sending one poor soul spiraling into the wall and the other he knocked over completely. After a second's hesitation and confusion, Spleenk and Shloonktapooxis hustled in after him, doing their best not to send sympathetic looks the guard's way.

Entering the prison led to by far the worst hurdle, which of course meant it was the bane of Zim's already not great day.

The Commander was far too familiar with the panic prison breaks caused because he'd caused his fair share of them.

And this particular prison break was ever worse.

Every Irken was running about, panicked and ill prepared. The Armada considered its people so superior and perfect that these types of things rarely happened. They were too arrogant to prepare for them, so when they did occur it was mayhem. Normally, mayhem would be the perfect cover for infiltration, except for the fact that everyone was in desperate need of guidance.

Guidance only a true Irken leader could provide.

And Zim was masquerading as a Taller.

Instead of being invisible, every Irken wanted to say something to Zim – mainly to cover their asses and tell him how well things were going, don't worry and look how competent I am! But occasionally they had stupid and difficult questions that Zim had to either ridicule or laugh off in order to progress because with out access to a terminal to syphon some information, he knew even less than they did.

So far, only lower class soldiers and guards spoke to them so none of them really questioned Zim on who he was or his credentials, his height being validation enough. But their proximity made him increasingly nervous.

There was bound to be another Taller or Elite that would be vying to take control of the situation and would inevitably challenge him. For some stupid reasons Irkens always challenged and blamed each other when a problem arose. By some dumb luck, he just hadn't bumped into someone who had the credentials or gall to challenge him.

Yet.

Bluffing could only do so much, so Zim quickly pulled Shloonktapooxis and Spleenk aside, gave them each wireless transmitters so they could hack the terminals and send whatever they salvaged to the ship, and told them to blend into the crowd.

Those two might not have the moxy to size up another Irken but with this type of chaos they wouldn't have to – their Shorter status would allow them to blend in and see the mission through, Zim was actually a disadvantage now. If they were caught by another Taller all of them would go down and they would gain nothing.

Zim had to be the diversion.

Worse, he had to make sure everyone stayed panicked, because the second these idiots calmed down would be the second they wanted his Lieutenants' identification.

That was probably the worst part of it all.

He had to order separation for the good of the mission and had no idea if he'd see his obnoxious comrades again.

He would just have to trust them and hope for the best.

And that's why Zim found himself locked in an abandoned medical lab a few degrees later. With an inmate on the loose no doctors or personnel would be bothering themselves with tending the bacteria or supplies in the lab. Better yet, it had a solid door so no one would be able to peak inside and see what he was doing and it housed a computer terminal.

Perfect.

A wire snaked out of Zim's PAK and connected to the terminal. Upon opening it, he quickly found himself swamped by inmate and patient records, about half a million natives were housed here, which suggested either enilation of the species of other bases. He also found a ridiculous amount of information on, well, just about everything – apparently the creatures who lived here had created their own planetary version of the Galactic Extranet.

The amount of information was overwhelming. Zim hadn't linked his PAK to a foreign computer since updating himself to be even more amazingandhe hadn't quiet mastered his new computing capacity. Before he could control it, his PAK automatically began to download most of the wayward information. And there was a lot of it. When he managed to shut down the download he'd noticed that he not only accidentally stored some of it on himself, but he'd sent a few of the larger files to the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y's ship too.

Whoops.

No harm no foul really, he didn't really need those files on the native's biology but it was better to have what he didn't need than need what he didn't have. Besides, he didn't exactly have the time to sort through and clear out the files he'd stolen and they wouldn't hinder him as far as he could tell. Better to press on and sort it out on the ship later.

The biology file reminded Zim that he did still need to know if this planet's native species was one they could attempt to recruit for the resistance. Zim spent a few more seconds pulling up and downloading some extra files on the creatures', know as humans, culture and such until it became apparent they would be worse than useless. Understanding the sentient life on this planet might have been helpful if these hyuumans were an even remotely recruitable species, but Zim was now certain they were not. There were several interesting things about these things scientifically speaking; especially their height and languages, but the hyuumans were essentially just monkeys.

Dumb monkeys.

No way one could ever be of use to the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y or their Captain.

With a sigh, Zim decided it was time to stop fooling around and get down to business. He needed to focus on cracking a few of the security encryptions so he could do things like disable cameras, set off alarms and otherwise cause mayhem. So long as the Irkens were scuttling about in a panic trying to fix the base, it would be easy to infiltrate. Ironically, the species did not fair well with unscheduled chaos and needed heavy guidance in such situations. Zim hadn't seen any Tallers (besides himself) and he hoped it would be a while before someone competent was able to get everything under control. That way, it would be a simple matter to keep mass panic going amongst the drones.

It was all a simple matter of distraction while Spleenk and Shloonktapooxis were locating the computer mainframe. They would need to find the mainframe because, of course, the drones wouldn't have access to the real information, the juicy stuff.

No, they were just mindless soldiers.

Zim scoffed to himself, he couldn't believe he'd been part of such an imbecilic people. Worse, there was a time he'd actually bought in to that drivel the Tallest fed them.

Beh.

Feeble-minded plebeian filth.

Zim let his hands roam casually, almost sensually across the controls; idly overcoming firewalls and codes as if they were nothing. He allowed himself to become lost in his thoughts as he worked, a quiet, distant smile upon his lips. He loved fucking up the Armada in any way possible – it just made his day to know that he would be an inconvenience, however small, to the mighty Irken machine.

There was something insanely relaxing about decimating the base's security system. After weeks in space wondering if he even could stop the Armada, wondering if it was too big a task for their newborn resistance… well, overpowering a secret base off the fringes of Gamma space just seemed like a poetic form of justice. Irk he needed this, this affirmation that he hadn't spent 5 years doing nothing and that he was, in fact, a thorn in his ex-Tallests' sides!

Zim was so wrapped up in his self-satisfactory hacking that he didn't even notice one of the lab doors slide open. It wasn't the main entrance, but one of the extra doors that led to small testing rooms.

Currently, there wasn't anyone there.

Not exactly.

The door had reacted to the movement of a ceiling vent, whose protective cover had mysteriously fallen to the floor near the entrance's motion detectors. Maybe if Zim had ever fallen in the category of someone whom was observant or even vaguely aware of his surroundings, he would have noticed this. If he didn't, then surely he would have noticed as a gangly blob of pinkish, peachy flesh and fluffy black hair wearing a pink prison suit fell out of the ceiling vent and onto a heap on the floor. He definitely would have noticed the very loud, bang as the figure, slightly disoriented, sprung to its gangly feet and accidentally knocked over a set of test tubes.

Really, this intruder was probably the least stealthy creature on the base.

He'd even cursed rather loudly when he hit his elbow on a medical table, sending shocks of sensation that were anything but funny up his arm.

But Zim was Zim.

And thus, he didn't notice.

Besides being an extremely obsessive person, the Irken had an extraordinary talent in short sidedness and tunnel vision.

Honestly, the Irken was having so much fun causing mayhem amongst his kind that nothing short of a punch to the skull would have gotten him to notice the intruder that was currently eyeing him.

At first, the creature had thought Zim was a normal observant person, cursed himself for being loud and quickly crouched, hiding himself. A heavy silence fell where the intruder counted forty of his own heart beats and, perplexed, stole a quick peek at the Irken who was standing in front of the computer terminals. His hands were moving with a lighting precision and his large red eyes were only for the screen. Obviously, the alien had heard nothing.

After it became apparent that Zim possessed the observational skills of a rock, the intruder slowly stood up and, after watching for a moment, took a hesitant step into the med bay.

The intruder was none other than the escaped prisoner that'd caused such uproar. He was still wearing his prison jumpsuit, a horrible pink stripy thing, and held the shock spear he'd stolen close to his body. How exactly he'd managed to get into the air ducts and still somehow bring along the weapon was a mystery unto itself.

Carefully, so as not to make a sound, the escapee quickly circled around Zim, who only appeared to be a Taller in the prisoner's eyes – and therefore an enemy. Zim, who was already oblivious by nature, had managed to hack into the security system and was too busy ruining the base to notice the creature creeping up on him. He'd gotten busy redirecting the workers away from the main computer room and already set all the cameras on a loop, froze the PA and alarm systems so they would squeal like a Blortian hog-monkey if anyone touched them and was currently reprogramming some janitorial drones to 'clean' the computer monitor systems with copious amounts of fluid and other non-computer friendly substances. There were also several robotic slavers he'd sent on a rampage through the cafeteria. The imminent peril to snacks would definitely be drawing a lot of attention.

While Zim was unleashing snack slaying carnage the prisoner had managed to get behind Zim. With a flick of his thumb he powered up the shock spear. Zim's antenna perked up at the noise, finally taking notice, but before he even had the chance to glance behind him the intruder struck driving the tip of the spear inside one of the open ports on Zim's PAK. It only took a split second for the spear to deliver it's deadly blow. At the push of a button about a thousand watts of electricity overwhelmed the Commander's circuitry; his body to shook violently like a marionette controlled by a mad puppeteer. When the electricity stopped his body went ramrod straight, his claret eye grew wide and he drunkenly teetered in place for a few seconds. Then his eyes went black like a computer screen abruptly shutting off and he collapsed upon the computer terminal.

"Pathetic." The prisoner scoffed, looking at the defenseless Irken. "So you're the best this place has got, huh?"

He walked over and pushed Zim's inert body off the computer terminal unsympathetically to get a better look at what he was checking out, thinking there must be important files or lockdown codes – something he might be able to override. He was surprised instead to find that this particular Irken had already done most of his work for him, if the bugged security system was any indicator. It was also rather strange that everything that had been accessed was running a subroutine. In other words, it had been hacked.

But shouldn't a Taller have access to the whole base?

Why did he have to hack basic security files?

The prisoner eyed Zim, slightly annoyed at how useless he was turning out to be and only vaguely curious as to why he was seemingly messing up the base. A traitor maybe? It didn't matter; he needed to find a way out of here before the others found him.

He roughly yanked the information syphon cables attached to the computer out roughly, uncaring if he damaged the unconscious Irken's PAK and flipped his shock spear in his hands, intending to dispose of the useless thing and hack the systems himself. Luckily for Zim, thanks to the tension on the cables created from being thrown, they retracted much faster than they normally would have and knocked his holo-watch askew, and consequentially turned it off, in the process.

The prisoner, who'd been preparing to skewer Zim through his skull, stopped.

The holo-watch had been emitting a false Armada uniform in order for Zim to blend in but now it no longer holographically disguised him and his Resisty uniform was visible. And it was a navy jumpsuit.

Maybe that wouldn't have stopped another human, but this particular human had done more than fight Irkens for the past several years.

He'd been studying them.

And he knew that Irkens never ever wore blue. It was the color of their biggest enemies the Vortians – at least it was until the Armada had conquered them. Considering that their typical pink, purple and magenta uniforms weren't just signs of alliance to the Empire but to their planet, their customs and most importantly to conquest, the situation was even stranger. Not wearing pink was like wearing a white flag – and Irkens didn't surrender.

By wearing blue this Irken had essentially surrendered to the Vortians.

A conquered species.

Suddenly, the human wasn't very sure if this Irken was even affiliated with this base at all. But – Irkens didn't leave the Empire. Did they?

Who exactly was this?

The escapee knew it was in his best interest to simply dispose of this Irken and get out of here, but he's always had an insatiable curiosity and, despite hating them, loved learning new things about the aliens. Besides, he couldn't help but feel this Irken knew something. He might not have had much to base that on, but his gut never seemed to steer him wrong so he decided to prepare.

He searched the lab and found some restraints typically used to keep patients still for medical procedures, but it would do a great job keeping a feisty Irken immobile. The escapee squatted down and quickly tied up his new prisoner, covering his mouth for good measure. Then he began to rummage around the lab until he found a small contingency plan.

Some of the humans on base needed a little convincing to subject themselves to the invasive medical procedures the staff gave them and were forced to wear shock collars. After rummaging around for a bit, the prisoner found one of these collars and went back to Zim. He quickly opened the alien's PAK with an override sequence and began rummaging around inside. It was an invasive procedure and the human quickly rearranged several live wires within the device to accommodate the collar, which, until expanded, was only about the size of a golf ball.

Maybe deciding to stay and interrogate this Irken was a dumb idea, but at least he wasn't being stupid about it. If the Irken so much as tried something, he could fry him from the inside out. Better yet, a few modifications and the collar was set to a timer of about five hours. If the prisoner wasn't around to disable it, then Zim would die at the end of that time.

Viola!

Contingency plan.

That way he could question this alien scum to his heart's content, kill him if need be and get the hell out of this shitty prison. Nothing too hard!

It'd be fine!

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this chapter made sense and ya'll liked it! Not gunna lie – I speed wrote a lot of this because I didn't want to make you wait another month (also alcohol may or may not have been involved) XD If you spot any mistakes let me know and I'll fix it, otherwise I hope ya'll still like what you're reading and thanks for all your support!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU When the Irkens start exporting dangerous goods outside of known Irken space, the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y. decided to take a look, hoping to expose something they can use to finally end the Irken Menace. But what lies out in the farthest corners of space? And could it really help the rebel cause?

He awoke the same way he lived his life, slowly at first, as if easing into a pool, and then violently, flinging his whole self in for a swim before he had the time to judge its depth. Perhaps such a sudden wakefulness was to be expected from a creature that literally booted itself up like a computer or maybe that was just the way Zim was, either way, it certainly startled the human who'd been crouching over him. As soon as those magenta eyes snapped open, the human jumped back, which didn't necessarily work from his squatting position, and went flailing backwards onto his ass.

He wasn't exactly an ideal specimen, as far as Zim could tell from the biological data and imagery he'd downloaded. This human was almost pathetically scrawny, gangly really, and made up of sharp, bony angles. He was covered in a pinkish skin; his head fur black and arranged in a bizarre, scythe-like style while his two honey-brown eyes were shielded with what the planet's locals called 'glasses' despite the material being made from various plastics.

The precious few seconds Zim spent watching this creature fall back and complain about the small hurt he'd acquired from his fall allowed the Irken's brain circuitry to jolt awake and assess the situation. His organic, yet cybernetically enhanced senses took in the imagery, smells, and sensation surrounding him while his PAK pulled up facts to back the observation.

A chaffing sensation surrounding his wrists suggested his limbs as bound, confirmed by a tug attempting to free the confined area. The sensation also revealed a lack of pressure in the area where his watch would have been, suggesting his holographic disguise generator had either been taken or dislodged. Besides his arms however, the rest of his body seemed unbound, although his PAK, besides computing capabilities, seemed incapable of offensive or defensive maneuvers. Perhaps due to the foreign substance detected within it?

As for location…

He still seemed to be in the medical labs so, as far as he could tell, his body had not been moved – although he currently was lying on his side on the floor. The human was holding a phaser that looked suspiciously like his; no doubt pilfered from his belt and was holding it wrong. Perhaps he held it like that due to the fall, but Zim had a sneaking suspicion he'd been holding it sideways in an attempt to look tough. Zim took a deep breath to quell the urge to yell at this child about proper gun technique and safety. Did that thing even know how to use it? The human also had a shock spear lying near him, which suggested he was capable of offensive maneuvers, but he seemed to favor the gun.

Zim carefully watched the human roll into a sitting position to see if he could glean any more information before completing his analysis.

Conclusion of the human?

No doubt this was the escaped prisoner.

Conclusion of the situation?

The Irken could come up with only a single, unfortunate outcome.

Somehow, this physically and visually impaired creature had incapacitated Zim. Never mind that the human was obviously adept enough to escape a highly armed Irken prison cell and take out at least one guard – it was impossible to think this scrawny little creature could ever harm Zim.

Him!

Commander of the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y and scourge of the Irken Empire!

Talk about pathetic.

Overall, the situation could have been worse, but it definitely could have been better. He cursed himself; Lard Nar had always said he needed better situational awareness, but to think his obviousness could have led to this! Possible reprimands or teasing in his future aside, Zim's main concern was that his hollow watch had been turned off. He needed to convince this creature to release him before an Irken, who would recognize his Vortian clothes, saw him and raised the alarm. Even if the alarm was currently set to the soothing sounds of Blortian hog-monkeys, someone would be bound to check it out, and without knowing if his Lieutenants were done yet he couldn't take that risk.

That meant he had to buy more time.

And that meant playing nice.

He glared at the human, who seemed to be waiting for him to speak, and tried to figure out what he should say.

He knew what he wanted to say but… well it was probably a good thing he was in this situation after Lard Nar had taught him how to civilly negotiate. Before he might've recoiled and shouted out how freakish the thing looked and how dare it put it's filthy hands on him and tie him up or something equally charming.

He probably would have been shot in the face.

Since Zim had gone through officer's training and practical diplomacy with his Captain, he knew an insane outburst would not help. As the Commander he had to at least try reasoning before turning to violence.

Sometimes Zim really hated politics.

He sighed, and forced himself to look directly into the foreign, honey-brown eyes obscured by that stupid primitive seeing device. "I am Zim." He said calmly, "What is your name?"

The human visibly recoiled, obviously not expecting such a civil question, especially considering the circumstances. Zim had thought as much, any other Irken in this base would scream for help or declare him the escaped prisoner or whatever.

Zim had to convince this human that he was not affiliated with the Armada or else he might just get pumped full of phaser plasma.

Instead of greeting or giving his name, the human snapped suspiciously, "Where did you learn English?"

Zim blinked.

He hadn't realized he'd spoken in another language at all and quickly realized that his PAK must've swapped during his reboot due to the content he'd previously been downloading. He angrily made this fact known, "Zim didn't realized he was speaking your pathetic language." He spat, narrowing his eyes; "You can thank your primitive method of stopping my download for that. I'll be lucky if there's no internal damage." Noticing the way the human was starting to clench his fists, Zim clamped down on his anger before he made the situation worse. He reverted back to attempting diplomacy and said, "I don't think I got your name?"

Zim didn't necessarily ask because he cared or it was a good way to transfer from his slightly biting (and unprofessional) comment to a neutral topic. He did it because he knew how to survive.

No matter how innocent and scrawny this human was, while Zim was still tied up and without his PAK the creature was potentially lethal.

It was a simple matter psychology. Naming a person made it hard to kill them. It made them think of you as a living creature and not an object. With the exception of psychopaths, knowing your victim's name made most species sympathize and associate themselves with their prey and unlocked an unconscious, almost maternal type of instinct.

And that was simply having them know your name.

If he could get them on a first name basis, whether or not he hated Zim, the human would still find it difficult to kill him due to morals or something stupid. Zim didn't know, Irkens didn't have that instinct, but 70% of sentient species did so it was a fair bet to make. In fact, Zim was certain that it was this stupid fact and his habit of speaking in the third person that had aided his survival for so many years.

Irk knows he made enough enemies.

"That's because I didn't give it." The human snapped, making Zim wonder if he'd acquired yet another enemy. Man, he was popular! "And I don't have any intention of giving it to you space boy."

"You make it sound like it's so special," Zim snarked, "Zim would be honored to know your filthy name."

"Bite me," The human quickly responded, and stuck out his flat, pinkish tongue.

Zim was furious.

"That's a fantastic name." He growled, not entirely rude, but still nastily enough. He may have learned about diplomacy but putting it into practice was another thing entirely. He tried to be a little politer by added "Zim is so pleased to meet you." but it came out incredibly sarcastic.

Zim was just shit at being a nice, reasonable person.

The human snorted, not put off by the snark, "Heh. Can stay civil for less than a minute. Typical alien."

"Zim finds it hard to remain civil when a filthy hyuuman points my gun in my AMAZING face and doesn't at least tell Zim its name!" Zim didn't mean to snap, but patience had never been one of his virtues. Besides, his arms were starting to ache.

Apparently, patience wasn't one of the human's virtues either, because he quickly snapped, "FILTHY HUMAN?! I could say the same about you Irken scum!"

"JUST TELL ZIM YOUR NAME!"

"WHY ARE YOU MAKING DEMANDS?! YOU'RE THE CAPTURED ONE!"

"SHUT YOUR HORRIBLE FACE TUBE!" Zim screeched but froze, suddenly realizing something. He cut the human off, who was taking a breath to make a retort and said quickly, in a hushed tone, "If you don't want them to find us, you'd better pipe down."

"ME?! You-" Heavy footsteps sounded off from the hallway, as though rushing somewhere and the human's honey brown eyes met Zim's claret ones. An indignant understanding bristled his response. "Fine!" He staged whispered, "But just so we're clear, you started yelling!"

"And Zim finished it!" The Irken shot back, irritated.

They fell into silence until the footsteps died off. And then the silence devolved into an awkwardness as they tried to figure out a way to continue the earlier conversation, neither one entirely sure how to proceed now that they weren't yelling. The human was the first to break it, his whisper vaguely curious, "Wait. Shouldn't you want them to find us?"

"Not necessarily." Zim replied, fascinated by the way the human quirked one of the fuzzy patches on his brow. Curiosity? He could use that. "Zim will make a trade." He continued, "I will answer that question, if you tell me your name."

The fuzzy patch descended and collided with the other one, creating a 'v'. The human stared, "You're kidding."

"Zim does not 'kid', you horrible-" He abruptly swallowed his indignation and hissed, "If you refuse to tell Zim your name we can't be civil."

"You're tied up on the ground with a gun in your face, I think we're done with civil." The human pointed out bluntly, still irritated.

Zim's antenna clicked together in weird sort of vibration that sounded like a rattlesnake, startling the human enough that he scooted a little further away from the Irken. "Human." Zim said falsely sweet and obviously pained, "I am trying to follow stupid protocol and you are making it incredibly difficult to-"

"Ok, ok, geez." The human sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "I'm Dib, ok? Just." He hesitated, "Just don't do that thing with your antenna again, ok? It's creepy."

"ZIM IS NOT CREEPY YOU-"

"Shhh! Be quiet!" Dib hissed trying to hear if any more footsteps were scuttling about. He was confused at this turn of events and suddenly questioning the sanity of it. Why exactly had he wanted to talk with this Irken? He wasn't exactly corporative and nothing he said was going to help get Dib out of the prison.

Another awkward pause ensued as both of them took a second to think. Well, Dib was thinking, Zim still seemed to be seething over being called creepy.

The human took the opportunity to look at the alien; he was leaner than most of his kind, which was saying something considering how skinny they all were, but he also seemed to be stronger. Or maybe that was just an illusion because Dib could actually see Zim's shoulders and part of his well-defined biceps thanks to the blue jumpsuit the Irken was wearing. The clothing reminded Dib why he'd initially decided to let the alien live and interrogate him. With a sigh, he decided to ask about it. "Zim, right?" Dib asked, obviously just to be polite. How the fuck did you forget the name of someone who talked in the third person?

"What Dib-thing?" Zim hissed back.

Dib rolled his eyes; obviously Zim was still rather sensitive over the whole 'creepy' thing and very childish. Was calling him a thing supposed to be an insult? "So, uh, why exactly don't you want anyone to find us?" Dib ventured, "Aren't they like, your comrades or something?"

"Pfft. No. Not these idiots." Zim scoffed, then his eyes took on a far off look and he sighed, "Although sometimes I wonder about my own crew."

"What about them?" Dib pressed.

Zim made an attempt at shrugging, about to say something about their less than favorable performance record, when his PAK began to emit a weird beeping noise. Normally, that would be fine, since it was probably just said Lieutenants trying to get in contact with him, but for some reason it's frequency was altered. It radiated a fuzzy crackling sound, as if heavy interference was happening and then began to make a horrible wailing noise. The human clamped his hands over his ears, an action Zim enviously wished he could preform as he flattened his antenna against his skull.

"What is that?!" Dib shrieked, trying to make his voice heard over the noise.

"My COMM unit." Zim growled in response, his antenna starting to ache.

"Well turn it off!" Dib retorted, just as the thing went quiet. Wild eyed, he looked around expecting guards to rush in at any moment. Miraculously, no one seemed to have heard. Dib was just about to press Zim for further explanation when a noise crackled through, sounding like a broken walkie-talkie.

"C…man…er…im…ed…Ale…t. We've b…iscovered…im…iate…rendezvous."

Dib quirked his eyebrow, not comprehending, but quickly shrank back from Zim's rather ominous, "THOSE MORONS!"

Clearly he understood what was said.

The Irken was positively fuming and looked up at Dib with terrifyingly enraged eyes. "Well there's your answer about my crew. They're fuck ups!" He seethed and instantly began wiggling at his wrists, "Release Zim immediately, I have to go fetch them!"

"What?!" Dib gaped, "What part of being my captive did you not-"

"ZIM DOES NOT HAVE TIME FOR YOUR GAMES HUMAN!" He shouted insanely and then began muttering furiously as he squirmed and wrenched at his ties, "For some reason my PAK hasn't been responsive. I can't pinpoint them and I'm not able to send a signal back. You will release me immediately, this is the last time I will ask you, dirt child."

"This… the last time you'll ask me?!" Dib echoed, outraged. How dare this alien order him around? In fact, he hadn't exactly been the best captive and it was time for Dib to make Zim understand he was in control. "Look Zim." He seethed, "I'm not letting you go. You are my captive. Oh, and by the way, your PAK doesn't work because I put a shock collar in it, so don't even think about-"

"YOU. DID. WHAT!?" Zim shrieked, reaching an octave usually reserved for dogs. Dib wasn't sure but he thought his ears might be bleeding.

Zim on the other hand, was beyond livid.

And he was done with this 'captive' farce.

In a surprisingly nimble move that would've been called breakdancing anywhere else, Zim swung his legs around himself, rolling onto his back in a windmill like motion. His legs struck Dib, knocking the human over, and the momentum gave Zim enough speed to flip up onto his feet. He quickly honed in on the shock spear, lying forlornly by his feet and he kicked the thing up into the air, slamming his bound arms down onto it. The spear sliced indiscriminately through rope and flesh, gouging his arm and leaving a bright purple wound.

But he was free.

Zim instantly fell upon the human, who was sprawled out on the ground, and pinned him to the ground. He grabbed Dib's arms, wrenching them above his head, and sat atop his pelvis, interlocking their legs so the boy couldn't squiggle free.

"Say that again, human." Zim hissed, "What exactly did you do to my PAK?"

Dib faltered, his struggle suddenly quieting. Zim felt extremely dangerous as he asked that question and the human suddenly felt like it might not be the wisest move to explain in painstaking detail how he broke open Zim's PAK, cut and reattached some wires and hooked a shock collar up to him. He tried to be as cavalier as possible, if only because the Irken had him pinned and he couldn't reach the controller he'd put on a necklace and hidden under his shirt. He decided not to go into the details and take a more threatening route, hopefully to scare Zim into releasing him.

"It was a contingency plan." Dib said, carefully, but not backing away from his actions. "I rigged a shock collar to your PAK so you won't be able to kill me. I push a button, you fry, it's that simple."

Zim allowed Dib his explanation, trying to ignore his indignation that this human had violated him in such a way. After hearing it however, he quickly scanned Dib for the so-called 'controller' he had for the collar. When he didn't see anything noteworthy, he decided to write it off as a bluff. If the human had such a thing then he obviously lost it either after he'd fallen or after Zim had pinned him, there's no way he wouldn't have used it if he'd had it. Regardless, it shouldn't be a threat now.

Had Dib not touched his PAK, Zim probably would've let him live, but he wasn't lenient enough to let him go after such gross injustice. Even if the human didn't know what it meant. He prepared to quickly kill the human for his impudence and go find his lieutenants.

As fate should have it, a prison guard came bursting into the room at that moment. Maybe they'd been yelling too much or maybe it was a routine visit, either way the guard stumbled in onto a world of hurt.

Zim quickly grabbed the phaser lying discarded off to the side, flipped the clip open, inserted a new cooler and then snapped it back into place. He unleashed open fire on the unsuspecting guard within two seconds of him entering the room.

Not a problem.

Except of course, the fact that Irken guards typically roamed in packs, especially when a lock down was in place.

Mechanical tentacles suddenly exploded into the room, knocking over flasks and medical supplies as they rushed in. Obviously, the guards had seen the shots and been loathe to follow in; had Zim's PAK been operational, it would have been a simple matter of putting up an energy field around himself to deflect and injure the PAK limbs. As it currently was, the tentacles found their mark in a matter of seconds and ripped Zim, kicking and screaming, towards the hallway.

But let it be known that Zim wasn't a Commander for nothing.

He immediately dropped the phaser as he was pulled to his feet and somehow managed to snag the shock spear before he was lifted into the air. He immediately began hacking at the grips on his limbs and was doing a fair job of cutting himself free.

Dib, who'd been pinned just moments before, spent a dazed moment assessing the situation. It was Zim's angry, and rather colorful, Irken swears that finally pulled him out of his shock and into action. He wasn't exactly sure why he rushed to the aid of the alien who, moments before, had definitely seemed like he was going to kill him.

He just kind of did it.

Nearby the console Zim had been downloading from earlier lay the phaser he'd dropped. The human quickly dashed over to it, pressed his back against the console for cover and spent a second flipping open the coolant clip to check his shots.

It looked like he only had eight good shots left.

He immediately took aim at the largest mechanical limb still encircling Zim. It was partially cut through but the Irken had divided his attention on the remaining three and hadn't cut through it right away. Dib shot it out in a second, consequentially at the same time Zim took out the others, and the Irken fell to the floor with a loud and painful sounding clang. The remaining limbs thrashed in the air for a second before retracting back behind the entryway and a silence engulfed the room.

Dib scrambled over the computer console to see if the alien was all right and they locked eyes briefly. Zim glanced over at the door and back, Dib nodded.

They'd met a brief understanding.

Zim stayed low to the floor and snuck over to the door. One particularly ballsy guard stuck his head out to peek into the room and Zim chopped it off without hesitation. He jumped into the hallway where three other guards lurked. One held a COMM unit and was no doubt calling for reinforcements so Zim grabbed that one and flung him into the Med Bay, hoping Dib would shoot him while he was still a flying target. After hearing a blam that confirmed the human's sharp shooting, Zim attacked another guard.

The two guards seemed perplexed and shocked by Zim at first, which had allowed him the first move of flinging the first one inside, but quickly acclimated once they saw that their precious Taller was wearing Vortian blue. One swung a fist that Zim caught and pulled toward the doorway and the other followed. Zim took a hit in his cut arm and hissed in pain, swiftly delivering a knee to the stomach and an elbow blow in return. Before Zim could finish the two guards a blue plasma beam streaked past him, an inch from his eyes, and nailed one of the guards in the head. Zim took out the other one with a devastating slice from his shock spear.

He hit the shock function for kicks and giggles and calmed himself by watching the corpse jerk to the electricity.

Then, Zim rounded up the remains left in the hall and chucked them into the Med Bay. So long as someone only took a cursory glance down the hallway they would see nothing amiss.

A closer look however might reveal the obvious bloodstains.

Slightly weary from loosing a bit of fluid from his still bleeding arms, Zim walked back into the Med Bay to find Dib sitting atop the computer console with his gun trained on him. Normally, the Irken would have provided some type of witty response at the situation since the fighting had been devoid of witty banter, but he was still incredibly irritated at the human for messing with his PAK. Instead, he chose to fling his shock spear at the human, startling him enough to rush him and grab his phaser, which was originally Zim's anyway, and hold him at gun point.

"Now." Zim huffed, annoyed and breathless; "Zim would thank you for your assistance, had your filthy actions not warranted death."

"What?!" Dib exclaimed, "I just saved you life! You're seriously still mad about the PAK thing?!"

"Yes." He responded bluntly, finger poised on the trigger. "Besides Zim knows you only assisted to save your own filthy meat sack from destruction."

Dib opened and closed his mouth like a fish and then snapped it shut. As disturbing a sentence structure that was, he couldn't really argue with the content of it. He had only saved Zim so he wouldn't have to take on all those Irkens alone.

But Zim didn't need to know that, and Dib most certainly wasn't going to die because of it.

He knew this alien was stupidly gullible, so maybe a bluff would work?

The phaser glowed an ominous blue as the plasma heated up and Dib blurted out, "You can't kill me!"

Zim raised an eye ridge, "Oh really? Why is that?"

"You can't kill me because… because…" Dib's cheeks flushed as he tried to come up with a convincing threat. Any normal person would have noticed the pause and called his bluff, but due to Zim's chronic obliviousness and gullibility, the Irken fully believed him when he said, "You can't kill me because then your PAK will explode!"

"What!? You're lying!" Zim accused angrily but Dib didn't back down.

"I'm not lying! That shock collar in your PAK will explode if I die." He claimed, beaming triumphantly as Zim dropped his phaser to his side and took a step back in shock.

"Oh you horrible pig-smelly!" Zim cursed, shaking his fist in rage until a thought came upon him. "Wait. If Zim cannot kill you, I can still do horrible stuff to your legs right?"

"Uh… I guess so?" Dib answered and then immediately realized that was a horrible idea. "No wait! I need those!"

"Guh!" Zim recoiled, abashed at having his plan foiled again, "Curse you, Dib-thing! CURSE YOOOOOU!"

At that moment Zim's COMM filled with static again. It was hard to make out, but it sounded like his lieutenants were on the move and were warning Zim of reinforcements flooding the base. Without his holo-watch working, which Dib had broken when he knocked Zim out, there was no way he could walk around the base without being attacked on sight. Without his PAK working, he wouldn't be able to defend himself.

But he had to reach his lieutenants some way!

He had to!

But how?

He glared at the human.

Dib wasn't horrible with a phaser. In fact, he was probably better than either of his lieutenants, who were probably hiding somewhere or panicking. He needed to get to them before those idiots got themselves killed, and without his PAK he would need backup…

Zim shook his head at the ridiculous idea and decided to try one last thing before such desperate measures. He eyed the human disdainfully and asked, rather conversationally, "So…" He began, "The odds of you giving me that controller and fixing my PAK?"

"Slim to none. I still don't trust you." Dib responded moodily.

Zim crossed his arms and sighed, "Zim supposes the mistrust is reasonable… but I do need to reach my team…" He muttered, internally groaning at what he was about to suggest. "You wish to escape here, correct?"

"Yeah, and?" Dib asked defensively.

Zim bit his lip, loathing the idea of helping this irksome little creature in anyway, but knew he didn't have much choice. "Zim has been informed that reinforcements have entered the base. I doubt you could get past them on your own."

Dib, being rather intelligent, immediately picked up on the 'on your own' part of Zim's sentence and narrowed his eyes. "What are you saying?" He asked suspiciously, mirroring Zim's crossed arms.

Zim looked away, leaning on the console. He cursed under his breath and said, obviously pained, "Without my PAK I can't reach my comrades alone and you're not entirely incompetent with a weapon."

"Um, thanks?" Dib asked. He looked at the floor kinda awkwardly and asked, "Are you suggesting we help each other out?"

"Not because I like or trust you dirt-child." Zim spat rather hastily, "But due to necessity… yes."

Dib held up his hands and waved them a little to placate the crazy notion of liking or trusting one another. "Whoa, yeah no. I definitely hate you. But um," He paused, "I guess you are a safe bet… well, safer…at least you won't try to kill me right away, right?"

"Zim can agree to that." The Irken allowed. He remembered Dib's threat about the shock collar and said, "As long as you do not zap Zim."

"I reserve the right to zap you if you attack me."

Zim shrugged, "Fair enough, Zim reserves the right to kill you if you attack me."

"Uh… not kill. How about just that horrible leg stuff you mentioned?" Dib asked warily, Zim glared and after a long second sighed.

"Fine. Zim will only mutilate your terrible leg stalks if you attack me. So do not attack Zim and Zim will not attack you. Fair?"

Dib looked down at his legs and wiggled them, as if deciding whether or not he could deal with having no legs if this went south. With a sigh he ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. "Fair."

"Good. Now quickly show me what you can do with this." Zim commanded handing over the shock spear, "I need to know which one of us would be better at cover or melee."

"Uh. I think I can already answer that question." Dib said, eyeing Zim's bleeding arm and the carnage behind him. He doubted he would have survived that.

"Silence!" Zim commanded, "I need to know for when we meet my team, now might be our only chance for me to assess your skills."

"Uh…" Dib wanted to argue with that, but he supposed he could see the logic if they needed to form a team and fight their way out. Instead he asked, "So what do I do?"

"Attack me." Zim said, taking a step back from the console to allow Dib to stand.

Dib almost smiled at that, "With pleasure."

He bounced on his feet for a second and then struck out at Zim in a sideways arch.

Zim caught the spear with a bored flick of his wrist and kicked Dib in the stomach, sending him flying into the wall where a pile of medical supplies precariously shook upon their shelf and then fell onto him. "You're terrible." He said, sighing, "Zim supposes you will do as cover though. Your phaser skills are passable."

"Ah, ow!" Dib complained swatting at the supplies raining down upon him. He yanked out his controller, yelped, "What was that for!?" and zapped Zim who cringed and crumpled into himself.

"Augh! You horrible!" Zim recovered rather quickly and stomped over to the human, still slightly sparking, and yanked Dib by his shirt to his feet. He snarled, "Do not fry Zim's circuitry when I am assisting you! I thought we both agreed that was fair!"

Dib's face went from completely enraged to completely befuddled in less than a second flat.

"Assist-? You kicked me into a wall! We agreed attacking each other was off limits!" Dib countered, trying to push Zim, who still had his shirt in a death grip, off of him. When that failed he held up the controller in his hand, his thumb hovering above the button.

Zim narrowed his eyes, glared at the controller and, after a tense second, released Dib with a growl, "Zim was assessing your combative abilities!" He explained in exasperation, feeling like he was talking to a child. "They're pitiful, by the way." He informed. "If this were combat you'd be dead."

"I know I suck with a spear! You didn't need to kick me for that!" Dib argued, "Why didn't you just stop once you caught my wrist!?"

"Enough! You will cease your pitiful whining!" Zim snapped, he picked up the phaser and tossed it at Dib's head. "Here!"

Dib made a strange yelping sound and somehow managed to catch the phaser. He was about to make an angry remark when Zim took off his belt and clipped it to him. "Wait, what?"

"That holds the coolant chips." Zim explained, pointing at the ammo packs on the belt. "Remember to reload ever twelve shots so you do not overheat the gun and blow us all up." At Dib's blank look, he asked suspiciously, "You do know how to reload the mag, correct?"

"Of course I do!" Dib yelped indignantly, and did so as demonstration. The previous round only had a shot left anyway.

"Good." Zim said, satisfied. "Then we've wasted enough time, let's go."

"Uh wait."

"What, human?!"

"Your arms?" Dib asked, pointing to the purple liquid flowing down them, "They're kind of massively bleeding."

Zim rolled his eyes and began to rummage around the Med Bay, "Zim is not bleeding," He informed rather prissily, "I am leaking a type of organic organ lubrication and non organic oils similar in function to the hemolymph of your insectoids." Zim bent down to swipe a roll of gauze off the floor and missed the look of horror on Dib's face as he questioned quietly, 'Organ lubrication?'.

After a moments hesitation he took a tentative step after the Irken and gave a rather fake, nervous chuckle. "Oh, well, that's… uh, kinda gross, but ok." He coughed awkwardly at Zim's hateful glare and said, "Well, regardless we should probably patch you up, right?" He motioned to the gauze, watching Zim fumble slightly with it.

"Zim will patch himself up, human-filth." Zim snapped angrily, "You've done more than enough damage with your grubby touchy hand-thingies."

"Hands." Dib said, exasperated, "My 'hand-thingies' are just called hands."

"Do not question Zim!" The alien snapped testily.

Dib just sighed.

Teaming up with a possibly insane alien who just happened to be a member of the most hated race in the universe?

Well, this was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wanted to update every two weeks and theeeeeen writer's block on top of an upped work schedule and school about to start! Yaaaaaay! Sorry guys! XD And sorry if this chapter's a little sloppy, I had to revise and I was also hurrying to try and get it out faster. Hopefully I'll be able to get back on the two week schedule or, worse comes to worse, at least once a month. Anyway hope ya'll like!


	5. Chapter 5

"So." Dib huffed, his voice a little wheezy under the strain of trying to talk and match pace with Zim. The Irken could move, and after three days sitting around a prison cell, Dib wasn't exactly in top form. "These comrades of yours…"

"Are what?" Zim asked irritably. He skidded to a brief halt at a four-way junction in the hallway and then continued on seemingly at random. The base was huge and after running around the corridors for the past ten minutes he was getting the sinking suspicion that they were nowhere near the exit. Why else would there be no guards around? Not that he was griping that they'd only had to deal with that initial band of Irkens but he found himself wishing he could find someway to pinpoint his Lieutenants. His PAK could've easily preformed such a task. Zim tried his best not to glare at the human.

"Well…uh…" Dib struggled for words in a way that made it impossible to tell if he didn't know what to ask or was too breathless to ask it. Zim rolled his eyes and reluctantly slowed his pace. "I was just wondering." Dib sighed in relief at the more lack pace, "What, or who, exactly are we looking for?"

Zim threw a glare over his shoulder so intense Dib instantly launched into an explanation on why he was asking. "I mean, we're helping each other out right? You help me escape; I help you find these guys. It'd go faster if we both kept our eyes peeled, right?"

Zim's eyes widened and he stopped so abruptly Dib slammed into him and rebounded off onto his butt, falling painfully on the floor.

"Ow." He complained, pulling himself to his feet. He was in mid-pants brush off, attempting to right himself, when Zim grabbed him by the collar and snarled, "You wish to peel Zim's eyes human?!" He spat angrily, "Does Zim even need to remind you of our no-attacking rule or have you already forgotten you horrid little-"

"Whoa wait, what?!" Dib backtracked immediately, "No, no, it's just an expression! I meant-"

"Expression? Expression of what?" Zim snarled, "Your disdain for me or your will to break our compromise!?"

"What no!" Dib yelped, slapping Zim's hands off of him. "Are you crazy?! It's an English expression! It's a saying!"

"How is Zim supposed to know about your horrid language?!" The Irken squabbled back. Quickly turning a very innocent and helpful question on Dib's part into an incredibly stupid argument.

"Jee, I don't know." Dib shot back, "Maybe because we're speaking it right now?!"

"Despite Zim's AMAZING ability to comprehend your filthy language, how on Irk am I supposed to know about your eye peeling metaphors?!" Zim spat back, "What sadistic, low bred race would even try such a thing?!"

"What?!" Dib furrowed his eyebrows, confused and concerned about this alien's sanity and sighed. "We didn't try it, it's just an expression you crazy-" Dib caught himself strangling the air, quickly relaxed his hands and took a long deep breath. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, trying to take the high road because someone had to. "Just, just never mind ok. I was trying to be helpful."

"BY PEELING MY EYES!?" Zim shrieked and took a step back in horror.

"NO!" Dib yelped, exasperated and resisting the urge to strangle Zim. "WOULD YOU FOGET THE EYE THING!" He tried to calm himself with another deep breath, only marginally succeeding and quickly explained, "I just wanted to know who we're looking for because it'd be faster if we both looked! That's it. No eye peeling or anything just what do I need to look for."

"Oh." Zim said simply. He crossed his arms and gave Dib a strange look, "You realize you could have phrased that much better, correct?"

"Whu-" Dib reeled back as if he'd been struck, but then quickly diverted his shock into irritation. "Well now I do."

Zim nodded as if he'd just taught a troublesome child a valuable lesson. "Good." He said in a way that perplexed and annoyed Dib to no end.

Seriously, he was pretty sure he'd end up killing Zim before the day was out.

A noise sounded from down the corridor and the two shared a look, deciding it best to finish this conversation while they were moving.

Zim glanced over at Dib and explain, "Unfortunately, you might not be of much use." He ignored the human's indignant look and continued, "They might still be in disguise, so just ask if they're Spleenk or Shloonktapooxis before you brain them."

"Uh…Shaloon…shloo… ?" Dib attempted to pronounce Shloonktapooxis' name with little success. Zim rolled his eyes and growled, "Just allow Zim to see them before you shoot them, then."

"Ah. Ok." Dib sighed, feeling the set up to be a little unorthodox but not sure what he could do about it. He decided for clarification instead, "So they're Irkens, then?"

"Pft, of course not." Zim scoffed, confusing the heck out of his companion. "They're Dleekan and… uh…. You know Zim doesn't really know what Shloonktapooxis is…" Zim paused, a crease forming between his eyes, "He is a floating cone thing… so… uh… huh. Whatever. Just don't shoot if you see this uniform." He pointed to the blue jumpsuit adorning him.

"Got it." Dib confirmed, then decided to ask, "You're friends with a floating cone?"

"Not friends. Comrades." Zim snapped back. Dib failed to see the distinction but got the impression that Shloont- whatever his name is – and Zim weren't exactly buddy-buddy with each other.

Huh.

So why exactly were they working together then?

An endless barrage of questions flooded the teen's mind but after his last question went over so well, Dib decided it might be best to hold his questions for later.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o00o0o

A tightness constricted his throat, his lungs burning, sides aching and he was almost positive he was about to pass out. Lt. Spleenk wanted nothing more than to stop running right then and there, maybe make sure his methane tank was actually working because for the life of him he couldn't breathe. But he'd already voiced such a complaint minutes ago when he was hyperventilating and blubbering about because he didn't want to die. Luckily he was with Shloonk when he saw her.

The pink and purple floating cone was used to such dramatics, and managed to get Spleenk on his feet with a few encouraging and entirely nonsensical words. And now here they found themselves, running like chickens with their heads cut off, down faceless corridor after faceless corridor, trying to find somewhere they could hide or gain leverage.

The sounds of angry shouts echoed off the corridors, but it wasn't anywhere near as frightening as the laughter she emitted when she sent her drones bearing down on them. Spleenk shivered remembering it and forced himself to focus on his running.

They turned a corner and found themselves down one of the extra tall, exceptionally wide main hallways that rooted through the whole base. They were designed that way so large machinery and other oddities could be transported throughout the base. It was probably the best way for them to go, considering it might lead to a hangar or a different exit, since they couldn't exactly leave the way they came.

"Eh… worth a shot?" Shloonktapooxis asked, half turning in midair to see his comrade. Spleenk tried to withhold a glare, envious that the cone was so much faster than him without any effort as he struggled to keep up. He was still having trouble breathing, darn exercise, so he just nodded furiously and entertained a line of thought that Shloonktapooxis wasn't really exercising and some day he'd be fat.

The cone, oblivious, sped on and they proceeded down the hall. It was fine for a few blocks and they passed several small side corridors down the larger one. The halls remained wide and empty, no Irkens to jump out and hinder their advance.

Spleenk found himself nervously casting his eyes around and slowly began to fall out of his run until his was simply walking. Shloonktapooxis whipped around and floated quickly back, "Come on, slowpoke-y!" He yelled cheerfully.

"Shh!" Spleenk simultaneously raised a shushing hand towards the cone while pressing a finger to his lips. He looked around cautiously and then bit his lip. "Shloonk…" He said carefully. "Why is it so quiet?"

"I dunno!" The cone responded and little too loudly and the Dleekan frantically shushed him.

He began to pivot in a nervous circle. "Irkens are fast. We shouldn't have lost those guys following us so easily." He strained his ears, no longer hearing angry shouts or pounding boots. He could only hear the high-pitched whine of the various electric outlets and their companions buzzing, the echo of his footsteps when he moved and his own breathing. His two hearts sped up and began beating a little too quickly, he could hear them reverberating in the nubs atop his skull, like a tiny orchestra and he began to feel a little light headed with dread.

He took a step back. "I don't think we're alone…" He said, cautiously.

"Whadda ya mean?!" Shloonktapooxis shrugged, floating carelessly. Spleenk's eyes narrowed slightly, something about the way his shadow grew large and smaller as he bobbed up and down.

"I'm not sure…" He answered, a small tremor dancing up his spine. Damn his heightened nerves! He pulled a phaser from his belt, somehow managing to grip it with two of his sweaty, clammy hands. It trembled slightly as he looked around.

"Dude. I think the stress is just getting to you." Shloonktapooxis said, frowning. He looked around. "I mean, I don't see anything."

Spleenk sighed, fretting, "I guess you're right… I just… It just feel so weird…" His mouth snapped shut at the tiniest of noises that came from behind him.

He spun around to find a small disk had fallen down from the ceiling. It bounced off the floor with a small 'clank' and rolled a little ways down the hall. The lieutenants watched, tense and breathless, the little disk rolled and then capsized. There it wobbled on its side and then finally lay still.

"Uh… Spleenk?" Shloonktapooxis asked softly, his eyes never leaving the disk.

Slowly, not even daring to breath, the tan alien tore his eyes away from the disk and looked up. He could feel his body tensing as his eyes looked higher and higher until finally he caught a glimpse of the ceiling.

And six pairs of eyes staring down at him.

For a split second no one moved and then a slow, sinister smile began to creep its way up on of the Irken's face, widening by teeth. Spleenk felt his legs turn to water.

"RUN!" Shloonktapooxis shrieked, a metal leg hitting him square in the chest compartment and sending him whizzing down the hall at turbulent speeds.

"Oh.. ohhh nooo!" Spleenk hesitated only a split second between watching the cone get chucked down the hall and diving to the floor, another metallic limb missing him by a hair. He felt his arms and belly burn from the floor's friction but he paid it no mind. He scrambled to his feet, as graceful as a spider on ice-skates, and clamored after Shloonktapooxis just as the Irkens began to drop from the rafters.

Spleenk was fairly certain he was bleeding from his close encounter and could feel the nagging itch of a paper cut along his cheekbones. His dual hearts threatened to burst out of his chest and he couldn't feel anything past the slight pain in his chest due to the adrenaline. In seconds he managed to catch up with Shloonktapooxis who was rolling along the ground, unable to stop himself due to a lack of limbs and too much force. He tried to make a grab for his comrade but before he could catch him the leader Irken shouted something in his native tongue and summoned his PAK legs.

The four legs began to glow at their tips and interconnected with a bright blue light. Spleenk's hearts dropped. He knew exactly what the guard was planning to do, having seen Zim do it in dire situations himself.

He was preparing to fire a plasma beam.

With trembling hand, Spleenk desperately grabbed at his phaser in an attempt to save himself before the guard finished charging. He'd managed to unsheathe the stupid thing within a fraction of a second, the exact time that beam fired, and only had a few hundredths of a second to retaliate. With sweaty hands, the Dleekan managed to pull the trigger as he was pulling his phaser from his holster.

By sheer dumb luck, Spleenk managed to get a shot off the instant the lead drone fired a plasma beam. His phaser beam collided with the plasma, supercharging the atoms past their plasmic state very nearly into the fifth state of matter. The two beams conglomerated into a great orb of energy and, thanks to Newton's Second Law, sent the forces of the blast rebounding back with such alarming speed an onlooker might've mistaken it for an explosion.

Spleenk went flying back from the incredible strength of the blast, slamming into the wall with a jarring force. Spleenk's eyes trembled within his sockets and he spent a disorienting moment watching the world spin. When his vision cleared he was treated to the sight of six drones sprawled out across the floor. He sprung to his feet immediately, wobbled slightly, and tried to grab Shloonktapooxis who was still rolling about haplessly on his side. He scooped him up, grabbing him by the pink antenna sticking out the top of his cone and physically dragging him down the corridor as he fled.

Finally airborne again, Shloonktapooxis managed to boost his hover belt enough to fly out in front of Spleenk, allowing the lieutenants to focus on his own running as the cone hovered on. They were skittering down a side corridor mere seconds following the blast, their pursuers still attempting to get their bearings and began screaming at each other as they ran.

"Whooo hoo!" Shloonktapooxis floated about excitedly, managing to stay in front of Spleenk despite obviously not trying to run, "Anyone else think that was cool? Please respond!"

"C-cool?!" Spleenk practically shrieked, throwing a worried glance behind him. "We almost died! And- and," He gasped and took deep breath from his methane tube, already winded, "They're still following us!"

"Well we just gotta lose em!" Shloonktapooxis replied happily, unconcerned.

"And how," Spleenk gasped, "Do you purpose to do that?!"

Shloonktapooxis looked at him briefly. For a fraction of a second his expression was so serious that Spleenk worried he was an imposter and then that stupid, shit-eating grin of his light his face up like a Christmas tree.

"Like this." The cone replied simply and them inexplicably dove down a laundry chute they just happened to be passing. Spleenk could hear his high-pitched, 'wheeeee!' as he went sliding down the chute. The Dleekan found himself staring, completely dumbfound, the reality of what had just happened not fully registering. Understanding suddenly slapped him in the face and he ran over to the chute screaming and flapping his arms like a bird trying to take flight.

"SHLOONK?!" He screeched, "Come back! We don't even know what's down there!"

A clamoring sounded off his right shoulder from down the hallway he'd just come. Apparently the drones had managed to pull themselves together. With a distressed whine, Spleenk looked back and forth between the hall and the chute. He wrung his hands together helplessly, took a deep breath, and jumped down after the cone, screaming all the way.

"I HATE THIIIIIIIIIIIISSS!"

It just so happened at the precise moment that Shloonktapooxis and Spleenk were traveling down the laundry chute; Zim and Dib were rounding a corner towards the exact local of where the stupid thing spat out. They'd just ran in to another band of Irkens and were on high alert, so when Zim heard the banging sound coming from the hallway he swept his arm up, halting Dib in his tracks, and eased forward to investigate, spear at the ready.

Had Shloonktapooxis not come flying out first, knocking Zim onto his rear and sending the spear skittering away, they might've had to face the very real problem of a lieutenant shish kabob. As it were the cone flew out, hovering above the range of the weapon but right into Zim's chest, priming the Commander to get squished by Spleenk who ungracefully tumbled out.

Due to minor claustrophobia and his naturally spastic nature, Spleenk was in the midst of a minor meltdown that quickly tangled him and Zim up into a painful knot.

"What the – SPLEENK?!" Zim shouted, irritated. His partially bionic brain was the first to process the situation, Dib was frozen in shock and Spleenk was too busy with his meltdown to notice. That is, until he heard Zim's voice.

Upon hearing a friendly Irken voice, Spleenk instantly launched himself at the poor alien, engulfing him in a vice grip hug utilizing all four of his arms and sending Zim into a swearing fit as he tried to squirm free.

Poor Dib was so startled by the suddenly display that he'd jumped back, tripping over himself and shakily taking aim at the thing attacking Zim. He'd never seen an alien like that before and had yet to recognize Spleenk's gesture as a hug. All he knew was the alien was tan and gangly, had four arms and little nubs on the top of its skull. He'd flipped his phasers safety off before he noticed the Vortian blue uniform Spleenk was wearing – the same kind as Zim's – and with a breathless sigh of relief he dropped his weapon, allowing the strange scene to unfold before him.

"Oh thank, thank goodness." Spleenk breathily hugged Zim's torso with two of his arms and simultaneously squeezed the Irken's face in the other so he could get a good look at him. Naturally Zim was none to please and immediately began shoving at Spleenk, spouting curses and obscenities.

"Spleenk, what are Irk do you think you're doing?!" Zim snarled, his hand firmly placed on the tan alien's face in an attempt to push him off. The lieutenant let out a nonsensical wail, blubbering uselessly and going limp in Zim's arms. Zim's face took on a blank irritation and he allowed the alien to flop over him like the world's most unattractive goldfish. Within seconds, his patience snapped and he switched tactics. He growled out his annoyance and took Spleenk by his upper arms, shaking him lightly, "Breathe." He commanded.

"I'm, I'm trying… you- you don't, we have a pruh…a prob-" Spleenk looked like he was on the brink of passing out. Zim slapped his face in annoyance and quickly covered his lieutenant's mouth.

"Stop talking." He said, annoyed, "Breathe through your nose."

This at first only made things worse because Spleenk saw the bandages wrapping Zim's arms and made an alarmed shrieking noise then immediately began hyperventilating and sorta crying, trying to grab at his arms and inspect them. Had Zim's PAK been working he would have used his spider limbs to hold Spleenk still but instead he grit his teeth in annoyance and allowed himself to be pawed at by his overemotional crewmember. Zim growled something at Spleenk that Dib couldn't hear. Whatever it was, Spleenk started nodding furiously and, after Zim grabbed his head to still him, started taking deep breaths. It was a rather fascinating thing to witness. Despite the Dleekan's seeming lack of facial features other than eyes, mouth, nasal bridge and the spot on his forehead, his little breathing exercise revealed a well-hidden, silted nose. The small slits above the alien's mouth suddenly became visible as he took a few alarmingly deep breaths.

Weird.

Zim held the Dleekan like that for a while longer as his breathing slowly began to regulate, his nasal slits becoming less and less visible as he returned to normal breathing.

"There." Zim sighed and turned towards Dib, "Explain."

Dib balked, not sure exactly what Zim wanted him to do, but quickly realized the question wasn't for him when he caught movement out of his peripheral vision. He jerked back in alarm, amazed and disturbed by how the alien, who resembled a floating pink and purple cone, had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The cone paid Dib no mind and answered Zim in an obnoxious, high-pitched voice.

"Don't mind Spleenk, sir." Shloonktapooxis supplied, hovering about the tangled mass that were his comrades. "It's just been a difficult day." He said this in a way that suggested his day was nothing but enjoyable and continued, "There's just this massive problem so he's all worried and junk."

"A problem?" Zim's claret orbs narrowed into slits, not at all appreciating the cone's nonchalant attitude. "You mean besides the fact that both of your disguises are off-line and the whole base knows we're here?"

Spleenk suddenly grabbed Zim's hand and yanked it off his face. Then he captured Zim's face in his multitude of hands, squishing it, and wailed miserably, "YES!"

Zim let out a long slow breath and slowly began peeling Spleenk's fingers off him. "You will release Zim's face." He demanded. Spleenk quickly let go with a startled, 'sorry!' Zim sighed and asked, "So what is the problem?"

"Well… that depends on your definition of problem…" Shloonktapooxis began. "I mean its not terrible but you probably won't like it."

Spleenk cut in, limbs flailing, and yelled panicked, "TAK'S HERE!"

"She what?!" Zim snarled, leaping to his feet immediately. His sudden motion sent Spleenk floundering onto the floor. Zim rolled his eyes and bent down to help the spastic alien up with a grumble, causing enough of a lull in conversation for Dib to interject.

"Well yeah." The human piped up with a shrug. "She's like the warden or something."

The human's sudden comment caught the lieutenants' attention and they finally took notice of him. This immediately sent them into a frantic whirlwind of activity and comments.

"What is that?!" Shloonktapooxis cried, floating way too close to Dib for his comfort. He took a hesitant step back only to feel a phaser press into his back as Spleenk shouted, in his reedy, panicked voice, "Who are you are what do you want with our Commander?!"

"Whoa, what – Commander!?" Dib yelped, astonished; his head swiveling between Spleenk and Zim.

Zim rolled his eyes to the heavens and sighed. Dib got the feeling these two were a constant test of the alien's nonexistent patience and wasn't surprised when he smacked Spleenk over the head with a gruff, "Knock it off."

Both lieutenants inexplicably jumped into parade rest and saluted with a, "Yes, sir!"

Zim pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Ok." Zim sighed, "Just… just report."

Spleenk went first, miraculously composed after his panic attack. "Commander, sir, Shloonktapooxis and I were successful in retrieving…" He hesitated, glancing at Dib and amended, "…we completed the mission." At Zim's nod he continued, "We unfortunately, were discovered shortly after and the resulting conflict short circuited our holo-watches."

"I almost died!" Shloonktapooxis blurted out happily, "Oh man, it was like a HoloVid or something crazy!"

Spleenk narrowed his eyes and said, "Yes, well, it might not've been so exciting had you not goaded them on."

"Naw. You loved it." The cone insisted happily.

"Whu- I most certainly did not!" Spleenk spluttered outraged.

Zim exasperatedly massaged his temple. "Lieutenants…" he growled in warning.

"Sorry, sir." They chorused.

"On our way out we spotted Tak talking to a platoon in the western corridor, near where we came in, so we decided to go this way instead."

"Where we bumped into you!"

"The platoon consisted of about ten other Irkens and that's pretty much it." Spleenk shook his head miserably, as if recalling the ordeal. "Anyway, what about you Commander? What's up with the pink thing?"

Dib, who'd gone quite as he tried to piece together what Zim's mission was and how the hell he was a Commander, even if his crew was seemingly incompetent, was startled out of his musings after hearing Spleenk refer to him as 'that pink thing.' "Hey!" He snapped, a little more than insulted.

Zim held up a hand to quiet the human, oblivious to Dib's indignation and began to explain to his crew, "The dirt-child is a native of this planet and assisted me in finding you. His name is Dib and he is an ally." The way Zim said 'ally' Dib could almost hear the 'for now' following it. He found himself tense and busied himself with putting his phaser back in its holster.

His over active mind picked up on the fact that Zim hadn't exactly caught his teammates up to speed and wondered why he didn't tell them the full story or mention what was up with his PAK. Maybe it was just pride?

He didn't have time to dwell because Zim's crew immediately assaulted him with introductions. Thankfully, Zim quickly quieted the chatter, in part due to how alarmed Dib seemed by the aliens invading his personal space but mostly because the Irken now had bigger problems to worry about.

"Dib-thing." Zim said, causing Dib to sigh an exasperated, 'yeah?' at the nickname that now seemed permanent. "What do you know about Tak?"

Dib blinked and suddenly found three pairs of eyes trained to him. He uncrossed his arms and self-consciously shifted his weight from foot too foot. "Uh… not much." He supplied unhelpfully, unnerved to be the center of attention, "Just that she's like the warden here or whatever. Only time I even saw her was at my trial and it was just a glimpse. She's sorta an enigma."

"Trial?" Zim echoed, eyeing the human strangely. The Irken flirted with the idea of asking about it, trials were incredibly rare within the Empire and typically reserved for public executions or existence evaluations, which were fancier executions. Why had Dib been put on trial? He quickly moved on before he could dwell on it, now wasn't the time. "So you've never met her then?" He clarified.

"Nah." Dib shrugged, not sure why everyone was so tense about this Tak person.

Zim shook his head and muttered ominously, "Let's hope it stays that way." Then he turned sharply on his foot and addressed Shloonktapooxis. "It sounds like getting to our Diver isn't an option. There is a weapons hangar not far from here towards the east. Think you and Spleenk could use something from there?"

The cone smile sinisterly, "Weapon hanger? Sounds like a paaaaaartaaaaay!"

Spleenk smiled nervously and agreed. "I think we could work something out."

"Good." Zim nodded, "Dib," The human's head jerked up, startled. "We're cover. We'll work on getting the lieutenants to one of those mechs."

"Got it." Dib agreed.

Zim allowed himself a petulant smile, "Considering your skill with hacking Irken tech, can Zim count on you to get the bay doors open?"

Dib grimaced and muttered, "Oh so now it's a useful skill." Annoyed that Zim wouldn't drop it but unable to do anything about it. He sighed, "Sure, I'll give it a shot, but I can't promise anything."

"Alright then," Zim kicked his spear, which had fallen to the ground when Spleenk knocked into him, into the air. He grabbed it with one hand and pointed it the direction they intended to go. "Let's move out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the late update! Considering my school and work schedule I think I'm only going to be updating on a monthly basis. Anyway, if you liked don't forget to leave a little review and I'll see you all later! :


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